


Losing Home

by storyarchitect



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Poverty, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Seriously. Somebody please hug him., Slow Burn, sick aunt May
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2020-01-25 21:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 122,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyarchitect/pseuds/storyarchitect
Summary: When aunt May gets sick, Peter Parker's world gets shattered. With medical bills and May unable to work the family of two is one pay-check away from homelessness. But Peter got it handled. He can work, go to school and be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. He can even handle Queen's new drug dealers. Or those invisible Hydra agents. Yeah. He has everything handled.Definitely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! 
> 
> This is my first Avengers fanfic. I'm not a native English speaker, but I'm quiet confident that my English level is high enough for you to enjoy this story. But if you see any mistakes, please comment on them. I will gladly correct them, so that future readers don't have to stumble over them.
> 
> This story takes place roughly two months after Homcoming. 
> 
> I hope you will enjoy the story!

There was a thud and suddenly the weight on Peter’s back disappeared.

“Oh crap.” Peter muttered as he saw his schoolbooks scattered on the floor next to his locker.

“Uh, Peter, I think your backpack has a hole.” Ned pointed out. Peter grimaced as he inspected the damage. The bottom of the bag was completely torn, and Peter doubted that any amount of duct tape would be able to fix it again. But he had to try, because he knew for certain that May couldn’t afford another backpack.

“The infamous Parker luck strikes again.” Ned chuckled as he started to pick up some of Peter’s books. After putting them in Peter’s locker he patted his friend’s shoulder encouragingly.

“Come on, dude. You look like somebody killed a spider. It’s just a backpack.” Ned tried to console him, while also grinning about the reference to Peter’s secret alter ego.

“Sure. Yeah, you are right.” Peter hastily answered and quickly crouched down to pick up his notebook with sketches on improvements for his suit. He wouldn’t tell Ned that he couldn’t even afford a new backpack. He wouldn’t tell his best friend that he and May had neatly written down their budget for the coming months down to the last dollar. There was not enough money for surprise expenses like a torn backpack. There was barely enough money for anything really. But Peter didn’t have the courage to talk about it. As much as wished to explain to his friend, how bad his situation was (first and foremost how bad May was) he just couldn’t bring it up. Because talking about it would make it so much more real.

His spider-sense warned him of an approaching danger. Peter didn’t even have to look up to know whose boot just kicked Peter’s things across the hallway.

“Hey, Penis Parker.” Flash greeted him mockingly.

“What do you want, Flash?” Peter asked angrily.

“Can’t even afford a backpack, huh Parker? Why don’t you ask your friend Tony Stark to buy you a new one? Oh wait, your internship is just made up, of course you can’t ask him.” The other boy scoffed.

“Leave him alone.” Ned stepped closer to Flash.

“You can’t even defend yourself, but your girlfriend has to. You are pathetic Parker. Pathetic Penis Parker.” Flash then shoved Peter into the lockers behind him.  “See you at the party, Penis. Maybe ask your buddy Spider-man to join since last time he couldn’t manage to come.”

When Flash had finally left into a classroom, Peter sighed. His spider-sense tended to keep him on edge, even when there was no real danger around. It flared up and it almost didn’t matter if the danger was a bank robber, a man dressed up as a mechanic vulture or just Flash.

“Peter?” Ned asked him as the boy had picked up some wrinkled notebooks from the floor. “Why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I what?” Peter wanted to know..

“What Flash said… Why don’t you ask Mr. Stark to, you know, buy you things?” Ned wanted to know.

“Why would I do that?” Peter asked growing irritated.

“He is a billionaire. He could probably pay yours and May’s rent for the rest of your life and it wouldn’t even make a dent for him.” Ned explained.

“Yeah, but why would he?” Peter countered as he brushed some dirt of his physics homework which had also been kicked by Flash.

“Because he can…? I mean you fought freaking Captain America for him and that flying vulture guy. You would kind of deserve some payment.”

“I got the suit. I think that is payment enough. Also, Spider-man fought those guys, not Peter Parker. Why would Mr. Stark pay Peter Parker’s rent?” Peter argued, but Ned only furrowed his brows in confusion.

“But Peter Parker is Spider-man.” Ned said, his voice was something between confused and uncertain.

“Ned, I just got Mr. Stark’s trust back after that whole homecoming fiasco. I’m not going to ask him for money. I don’t want him to think that I’m after his money like everybody else. Besides, how would I explain to May why Mr. Stark suddenly buys me things? I already had a hard time making up an excuse, when she saw me in the suit. As far as she knows I’m just a regular intern at Stark Industries and I get to see Mr. Stark once in a while. May and I are doing fine. We don’t need his money.” Peter told his friend.

Ned shrugged his shoulder. “Alright, alright. It was just a suggestion. Let’s go to physics. Mrs. Warren will have our asses, if we are late again.”

Peter nodded and quickly took out his physics book from the locker before closing it.

“And, Peter.” Ned quickly added. “I can bring you my old backpack tomorrow. You can have it; I don’t need it anymore.”

Peter felt his cheek turn red. How much did Ned know about his crappy financial situation?

“Thanks Ned.” Peter answered after some hesitation. “That would be great.”

They quickly moved towards their next classroom.

“By the way, what party was Flash talking about?” Peter asked.

Ned blinked at him a few times incredulously. “Tonight is Cindy’s party? Remember? The party the whole school is talking about for days? You promised you would go with me. You can still come, right?” Ned asked his tone almost begging. “We never get invited to parties. But Cindy invited the whole team and this is our chance to climb up the social latter. Her parents have an inside pool. How cool is that? We have to go.”

“Oh, shit.” Peter cursed. “I completely forgot. I can’t come tonight. May and I have to move the last boxes and then I have to work. They pay best on Friday nights.”

Peter almost winced, when he saw Ned’s disappointed face. Any excitement left his friend’s expression.

“Yeah, alright.” Ned said. “It’s alright. The rest of the Decathlon team is there, I will be fine. Go deliver pizza or do your Spider-thing. Whatever.”

“Sorry, Ned.” Peter apologized, honestly feeling bad. But he couldn’t just skip work. May and he had agreed that the next week’s groceries were going to be bought with his salary.

“It’s fine, Peter. I understand.” Ned answered, but it didn’t stop from Peter’s stomach filling with regret.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter rushed home as soon as school bell signaled the end of Peter’s school day. For one he wanted to avoid Ned, who was trying to hide his disappointment in Peter, and for another he had barely enough time to help May move their stuff before he had to go to his pizza delivering job. He was running through the street of New York. He found that running was quicker than the Metro and more importantly cheaper.

“May!” Peter greeted his aunt as soon as he had climbed up the stair and saw May in the apartment. She smiled at him as soon as he saw him. Some angst which Peter hadn’t even been aware was there, left him. He smiled back at her.

It had been one week since May had got diagnosed with cancer. Lung cancer to precise. Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer, Adenocarcinoma, Stage IIIa to be more precise. As soon as May had told Peter her diagnosis Peter had turned into an expert on lung cancer overnight. He had probably read through every website on the first ten google search pages. He had also borrowed every book the local library had on cancer. May’s doctor had been startled, when his patient’s fifteen-year-old nephew suddenly started asking detailed questions about various treatments and different medicines available.

Peter wasn’t naïve. While May’s doctor had told him that her chances were relatively good -May was young and fit- Peter exactly knew what _relatively_ meant. Stage three cancer meant that the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes. The cancer was advanced and the word inoperable had been hanging in the air of the doctor’s office like a death sentence.

 May had promised him that she would fight, that she would beat the shit out of her cancer, but every time he left their apartment to go to school a strange feeling settled in his stomach. He couldn’t stop but think that one of these days he would return home and May wouldn’t be there anymore. That her cancer had gotten to stage IIIb, then stage IV and eventually…

Peter bit his lip. May was still there. Smiling at him. She might look a bit tired, but other then that she looked good. She was coughing sometimes, but not more than if she had the flu. She wouldn’t leave him.

“How was school, honey?” May asked as she started putting some last things in a box. The rest of apartment was already pretty much boxed up. May’s and Peter’s life was neatly packed in about twenty carton boxes, they had borrowed from a neighbour.

“Great!” Peter said and almost cringed at how fake his enthusiasm sounded. “I got an A in my Spanish test and my teacher really liked my physics homework. She told me that the way I solved the problem was quite advanced - on college level even. She said I should go to some MIT prep courses next summer. She would even recommend me for a scholarship.”

“I’m proud of you, kiddo.” May told him. “Come here, let me give you a hug.”

Peter quickly moved towards May and let her pull him into a tight hug. They had hugged more frequently ever since May got diagnosed. They were standing there for a while, when there was suddenly a knock and their neighbors were standing in the doorframe.

 “Hello May, Peter,” Mr. Zhao greeted them. His two-year old daughter was on his shoulder, waving at the Parkers with her small hands. “Sara and I were wondering, if we can start moving our boxes.”

“Yes, of course.” May answered smiling at the pair. “Peter why don’t you grab this box and start brining our stuff to Mr. and Mrs. Zhao’s apartment?”

Peter nodded and grabbed one box and put another on top of it. He lifted both easily.

“Be careful, honey, don’t carry too much at once. It’s not good for your back.”, May told, but Peter was already leaving the apartment.

Mr. and Mrs. Zhao’s apartment was one floor down on the other half of the building. While Peter and May had shared a two-bed room apartment, the couple had shared a one-room apartment with their baby daughter. There was a large couch in the middle of the room, which could be unfolded into a bed for two. A small kitchenette was squeezed in between the only window and a wall. Next to it was a small bathroom, in which it was impossible to take a shower without making the rest of the bathroom wet. At least that was what Mr. Zhao had told them. The apartment was barely big enough for one person and Peter had always wondered why Mr. and Mrs. Zhao hadn’t moved out earlier. But when May had told them that she was looking for a cheaper place, Mr. and Mrs. Zhao had gladly offered to swap apartments since their daughter Sara was starting to demand her own room.

“I know it’s small.” May said appearing behind Peter with a box in her hand. “But at least the Zhaos took good care of the apartment. They bought the kitchenette only last year and they are borrowing it to us as long as we live here.”

“You shouldn’t be carrying stuff.” Peter argued and took the box out of May’s hand.

“You know, this is only temporary. When my treatment is done, we will find a bigger place.” May said, a promise she had been repeating ever since they decided to swap apartments four days ago.

“I know, May. It’s fine.” Peter said.

“I’m already looking for places. I’m hoping to find something as cheap but a bit bigger.” She explained getting more and more nervous. “Maybe we will move out sooner.”

“Really, it’s fine.” Peter repeated. He felt angry even though he couldn’t exactly tell why.

“It’s not.” May said flatly.

Peter frowned. “It is.”

“It’s not fine, Peter. Nothing of this is fine. You shouldn’t be sharing a room with your old aunt. Sharing a folding bed even.” May explained. Her voice was cracking as if she was close to crying.

Then something in Peter snapped. Was May really worrying about something like the size of their apartment? This was the least of what mattered. “I don’t care, May. I don’t care about having my own room, my own bed, my backpack. With everything what has happened, do you really think I give a shit about those kind of things? Focus on getting well. That’s all I’m asking for.”

May looked at him shocked, then sadly for a few seconds, before finally smiling at him again.

“You are a good kid, Peter.” She whispered, going with her hand through his hair. Then she pulled him into another hug.

“What happened to your backpack?”

* * *

 

Sometimes Spider-Man’s strength was just handy. He moved all the boxes in record speed since he didn’t get tired at all. May and the Zhaos watched in astonishment as Peter moved both families almost single handedly. Mrs. Zhao gave him forty dollars at the end since he had helped so much. Two weeks ago Peter would have refused the money, but knowing how bad their finances were Peter took the money reluctantly and glanced cautiously at May hoping she didn’t see him take. Because May still would refuse to get financial help from anybody, insisting that they didn’t ‘charity’,

Most of the costs for May’s treatment were covered by her health insurance, but what worried the family of two was, what they were going to do, when May is unable to work. She was an emergency nurse, a very physical job. For now, she was still working. But it was hard to tell what they would do, when the side-effects of her treatment would force her to take a break. Unfortunately, she had used up all of her paid sick days. She had been feeling off for a while now and convinced that she had a nasty flu, she took days off. She had always been generous with taking sick days since she didn’t want to risk her patients getting a flue from their nurse on top of everything else. Now they both regretted that they hadn’t been smarter. The only paid leave she had left were a few holidays, which she had been saving to spend a few extra days during Christmas holidays with Peter.

 They had decided that moving into a smaller place was a smart move as they could start saving money for later. But Peter was still aware that they would barely make it. Working in an emergency room while having a chemo therapy herself was next to impossible. May might need weeks, if not months of sick leave.

May and he had decided that Peter had to take a side job as well. Peter delivered now pizza three times a week and additionally had a paper route on Mondays. The money was enough to buy groceries for the week.

“You can babysit Sara sometimes, Peter.” Mrs. Zhao proposed after Peter had put the money away. “And if you ever need a little bit more space for yourself, you can sleep at our couch. The apartment is so much bigger than out old one, it will feel weird for us. You are welcome to stay with us. Sara would be happy.”

Peter smiled at the woman. They were good neighbors.

“Thanks. I might take you up on that.” He answered, but he knew that there was no way that he would ever take the offer. He didn’t mind spending time with May. He honestly didn’t mind sharing a room or bed with her. Actually, being in the same room as her calmed him down. It made his spider-sense shout up. She was still there. She was alive. That was all that really mattered.

Before his phone rang, his spider-sense informed him that he had an incoming call. Peter sighed. It was probably Ned, who was panicking about going to the party.

Surprised Peter saw Happy’s name at the display of his phone. Since Peter’s catastrophic homecoming and his decline to join the Avengers, Peter and Happy had been in touch regularly. But usually Happy called on Sunday evening asking him if there was anything important to report and quickly ending the phone call after Peter had summarized how he had saved a cat or stopped a car thief that week. But Happy never called on Fridays. Maybe he dialed wrong? Or maybe there was an emergency?

“I have to take this.” Peter excused himself and quickly rushed out of the apartment away from any possible eavesdroppers.

“Hey Happy. It’s Peter. Peter Parker.”, Peter greeted the man.

“I know it’s you, I called you.” Happy returned impatiently and quickly continued, “Look, the Boss wants you in the compound this weekend. Pack your clothes, homework, whatever else teenage super-spiders need. Ask your aunt for permission. I will pick you up in an hour.”

“Eh, what? What is this about? A mission?” Peter wanted to know, his hopes rising of going to fight bad guys with the avengers. Even if Peter had refused Mr. Stark’s offer a few weeks back, he was still eager to go on missions with them.

“No, no mission. Tony wants to find out how your sixth sense or whatever works.”

“My spider-sense?” Peter asked.

Happy scoffed. “If that’s what you call it. Yes. Tony wants to build an AI with your spider-sense ability.”

Peter suddenly felt disappointed. Spending a weekend with Mr. Stark on a scientific project was the teenage dream. Well, _his_ teenage dream. But being the scientific project was much less appealing.

“Uh, I’m kind of busy this weekend. Can’t we post-pone this?” Peter offered.

“Tony also told me to promise you whatever take-out you want, a Star Wars movie marathon and tinkering in his lab.”, Happy answered.

“I’m really busy.” Peter repeated. As much as he liked spending time with Mr. Stark, he suddenly felt the urge to spend the weekend with May. He couldn’t just leave her alone. She was sick. She would probably overwork herself with unpacking, if Peter was away. Also, Peter couldn’t miss work. He had just gotten the job and they needed the money.

Happy was quiet on the other side of the line. Obviously, he hadn’t expected to get rejected. 

“It’s important, Peter.” Happy explained. “Apparently Tony needs this for a mission against HYDRA.”

Peter paused for a moment. “I can come over for one afternoon.” 

Peter could sense Happy’s rising annoyance. “Alright, kid. I will talk to Tony. He won’t be happy though.”

“Whatever. I need to go.” Suddenly feeling unnerved by Tony’s behavior. Did the man just expect him to jump as soon as he clicked his fingers? He hadn’t called or contacted Peter in weeks, but Peter had to be available for a whole weekend without any warning in advance?

Peter ended the call angrily. He quickly waved a goodbye to May before hurrying to his pizza delivery job.

Peter just arrived at his workplace, when a message popped up at Peter’s screen. Happy was going to pick him up tomorrow morning and that Tony would need him until the late after-noon. With a sigh Peter gave in and told Happy that he was alright with the time schedule.

 

* * *

 

It was twelve at night, when Peter’s work was finally over. May was probably already sleeping. With any luck he would be able to sneak into the apartment without waking her. He had promised her not work to late and he would hate to disappoint her. But when the guy in the shift after him hadn’t show up and his boss offered him five dollars more per hour, if he stayed longer, Peter had eagerly agreed.

The apartment was dark, when he opened the door. He could see May lying in the couch bed under wrinkled bed sheets. Peter could hear her heart beat. It was slow, she hadn’t woken up by him entering the apartment. Peter noticed that she hadn’t unpacked a lot. Which was another proof to Peter, that May was exhausted. A few months ago, May would have unpacked everything in one evening.

Again, his phone rang, and Peter quickly left the apartment, before the ring tone could wake May.

Ned was calling.

“Hey Ned, what’s up. Aren’t you at the party?” He asked his friend.

“Hey Peter.” His friend answered. There was a pause, Ned didn’t offer any explanation for his late call.

“You know it’s kind of late, Ned? What’s up?”

“Oh, hey Peter. Why are you calling?” Ned asked. Peter could hear loud music through the phone. Ned was still at the party.

“Ned, you called me.” Peter answered not knowing if he should be annoyed or worried. “Are you alright?”

“Is that Parker?” Another voice asked. It was MJ. “Give me your phone, Leeds.”

There was some rustling at the other line. Ned was saying something incomprehensible and MJ was just shushing him until she talked to Peter on the phone.

“Hey doofus. Your friend here needs your aunt to pick him up. He might have taken something, and Ned is insisting that his mum would kill him, if she saw him like that.” MJ explained.

“What do you mean, Ned might have taken something?” Peter asked frowningly. “Like a drug?”

“Yeah.” MJ answered. “Like a drug. Small, pink pill with a smiley face. Apparently, the newest shit out there.”

“Ned took drugs?” Peter asked another time still disbelievingly.

“Yes, like almost everybody at this party. Apparently, all the nerds want to proof that they are not that nerdy. Ned kind of fell and his hand looks a bit bluish. He needs a doctor or something. Your aunt is a nurse, right?”

“May wouldn’t hide something like that from Ned’s mum.” Peter protested. “Ned is screwed. He will be grounded until we graduate. How could he have been so stupid?”

“Flash. You weren’t there to be picked on, so Flash picked on Ned. And Ned wanted to proof himself like the rest of those idiots. Look Parker, ask your aunt to pick him up. He will probably be more coherent in one or two hours. But Mrs. Leeds sees him like that… she will probably send him to a military academy or something.”

Peter sighed. “I will be there in twenty minutes.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was loud music and colorful light coming from the house, the party was still going on. Cindy’s house was in a rich neighborhood and apparently the other houses were far enough away to not be bothered by the party. MJ was sitting with Ned on the street. Clearly the girl was struggling with keeping Ned upright. Ned’s head was tilted to the side. His eyes were closed, but Peter could hear that his heart was beating much to fast for his friend.

“Hey loser. You were quick.” MJ said and then frowned. “Did you run?”

“Uh, yeah. May was sleeping.”

“And how do you plan on bringing Ned home? Three of you couldn’t carry him. He is a big guy.”

Peter crouched down in front of Ned. He took his hand carefully in his. MJ had been right, the hand was blue and after being Spider-Man for almost two years, Peter could tell when something was sprained. That was going to hurt for a while. Ned didn’t have super-healing. Peter tapped the boy’s cheek, ignoring MJ comment. “Hey, buddy, you alright there?”

Ned opened his eyes slightly. “Oh, hey Petey. My spidey-friend.”

Panic raised in Peter’s chest. He glanced to MJ, who was just looking back with her typical slightly annoyed expression. Not getting the spider reference and also bot caring about it.

“So, I trust him into your capable hands. I’m going home.” She declared and stood up. When she let go off Ned, the boy almost fell to the side. Peter caught him in time.  

“Wait, nobody is picking you up?” Peter wanted to know.

“My uber is waiting around the corner. And I recommend you take one too.” MJ said.

Peter sighed and looked at the uber app after MJ had left. It was Friday night and therefore the prices for an uber were at its peak. He could pay for the uber and later ask Ned to give him the money back, but Peter exactly knew, that he could never ask money back from a friend who had apparently been at a bad place. And if Peter had been at the party in first place, Ned would have probably never taken the drug.

Peter pulled out his phone and dialed the only other adult, he knew that would help him.

“Hey Happy, I kind of need a favor?”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter returned to Happy’s car, after having dropped Ned off. Mrs. Leeds had been angry, but luckily, she hadn’t seen the worst of it. Ned had been looking visibly better after they had given him some water, feed him some McDonalds and after Peter had wrapped his friends hand up with the fist aid kit in Happy’s car. Peter had explained Mrs. Leeds that Ned had tried a few beers. The stern woman had scolded both of them, but mostly Peter since Ned was barely understanding what was going around him.

Tiredly Peter closed his eyes for a few seconds, after the car started driving again.

“You know, I’m not your personal driver.” Happy commented after they stopped at the next red light. “I’m not even Tony’s personal driver anymore. I’m head of security of Stark Industries.”

“I know. Sorry.” Peter answered.

“So. Are you like Cap? You can’t get drunk or high?” Happy wanted to know.

“What?” Peter straightened in his seat. “No. I mean, I don’t know… I never tried.”

Happy raised an eyebrow and looked back at Peter through his rearview mirror. “You want me to believe that your best friend got smashed, while you didn’t even try?”

“I wasn’t at the party. I just came to pick him up.” Peter explained.

Happy studied him for a few seconds. “What were you doing then, if you weren’t at the party? You weren’t spider-manning. I get notified, when you are jumping around in spandex.”

“What? Why?” Peter asked irritated.

Happy shrugged. “According to Tony babysitting teenage super-heroes is part of my job as head of security.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Peter argued folding his arms around him. His fatigue was suddenly making him feel cold.

“Sure, kiddo. I’m also calling your aunt tomorrow. I kind of think she needs to know about your late-night escapades. At least about your teenage, non-crime fighting ones.”

“Knock yourself out. She knows that I didn’t go to the party.” Peter answered.

“And I’m certain Tony will also not really appreciate that you stood him up to get wasted on party.” Happy continued.

“He certainly isn’t one to lecture me on that. Also, I didn’t stand him up. I’m coming tomorrow, and I didn’t get wasted.”

Happy put the car to a halt before Peter’s apartment building. Peter was glad that he still lived in the same apartment building. He dreaded the moment when he would eventually have to tell the man that they had moved because of financial reasons.

“That’s your stop, kid. Drink enough water to clear your system. Can’t hurt even with a super-human metabolism.”

Unnerved Peter opened the car. “I didn’t take anything, Happy.” Peter snapped. “I wasn’t even at the party.”

“Whatever. I’m picking you up in seven hours.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos!  
> I hope you will enjoy this chapter even though it is a bit slow.  
> Please, don't spoil Endgame. This story has nothing to do with Endgame, so I see no reason for spoiling it here.

Peter had slept through most of the ride to the new compound. As always Happy was silent and this time Peter also didn’t feel like talking. He was exhausted from a long week at school, patrolling, moving apartments, working and saving his high friend.

“Boss is waiting for you in the lab. FRIDAY will tell you where to go.” Happy explained. “I will pick you up in eight hours. You should be home by seven.”

That was barely enough time for Peter to get to work on time.  “Mr. Stark’s definition of one afternoon is kind of different than mine.”

“You will have the whole Sunday to do whatever you need to do.” Happy argued him. “Look, kid, I know it’s unfair. I know that spending time being subject of some scientific testing isn’t anybody’s idea of fun. But since you have to those powers, you also have some responsibilities.”

Peter stiffened at Happy’s explanation. _With great power, comes great responsibility._ Ben’s voice was at once echoing so loud in Peter’s head, that he could swear that the man was sitting in the car next to him.

“I know, Happy.” Peter admitted recognizing that his anger was directed at the wrong people. “I’m just a bit stressed, you know?” It wasn’t Happy’s or Mr. Stark’s fault that May was sick. It wasn’t their fault that he and May were one paycheck away from homelessness. Happy face softened.

“I get it. And to make it clear, I’m not angry for you calling me last night. Never hesitate to call me, alright? I think I learned my lesson about that two months ago.”

“Thanks, Happy. For yesterday too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter entered Mr. Stark’s new lab and was in awe.  It was even bigger than the last one, where he had been twice after his homecoming for adjustments on his suit. He hesitantly walked into the room – a hall really. It wasn’t exactly organized, Mr. Stark had various cables, computer chips, Iron Man parts scattered around the lab. There were notes on a big screen, unmistakably plans for a new Iron Man suit with nano technology.

Peter was reading through the notes, when his spider-sense started tingling. He turned around to see Mr. Stark entering the lab and grinning at him.

Then his spider-sense tingled again, a bit louder this time. Peter turned around and caught something with his hand before it could hit his head. It was a ball. A tennis ball. He could feel the scratchy synthetic fabric. But he couldn’t see the ball. It was certainly in his hand, but it was invisible. Peter looked at DUM-E, who had thrown the ball at him. DUM-E was making squeaking sound almost if he wanted to apologize to him.

“What is that?” Peter wanted to know.

“Why, a tennis ball.” Mr. Stark answered, still grinning. He waltzed lazily towards Peter, his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans.

“It’s invisible.” Peter said.

“You figured that out quickly. I always knew you were a genius.” Mr. Stark retorted and took the ball out of Peter’s hand.

“Alien tech.” The man finally offered as an explanation. He pressed a button on the keyboard of his computer turning the ball visible again. “Some more leftover from the New York attack. HYDRA is playing around with it and gave us a hell of a time last week. Turns out even trained assassins and soldiers can’t fight invisible enemies.”

Peter paled and suddenly it became clear to him why Mr. Stark had wanted him here so urgently. “Did anybody get hurt?”

The man grimaced for a few seconds. “Natasha got shot. She will be fine though. Can’t say that for mine and Rhodey’s iron suit though. There was fatal damage.”

Only then Peter saw a bruise on the man’s temple and Peter got reminded of the time, when Mr. Stark had come all-beat up to his apartment to ask him to fight Captain America.

“FRIDAY also couldn’t tell you where your invisible enemies were?” Peter questioned, “I mean you couldn’t see them with a heat camera? Or by analyzing wind movement around them?”

“Nope. They are invisible to heat cameras, too. Analyzing movement around them might be possible, but my tech can’t do it yet. FRIDAYs calculation of the surroundings are too slow and unprecise for an actual fight. But I suspect that is what your so called spidey-sense is doing on a very advanced level.”

Mr. Stark pressed the button on his computer a second time. The tennis ball disappeared again, and he threw the invisible ball towards Peter.  Peter caught it with ease.

“Fascinating.” Mr. Stark murmured. He made the ball visible again and took it from Peter.  Then he sat down on his desk hair and kept his eyes on Peter as if he was his newest technological toy.When he sensed Peter’s uneasiness though he turned around and picked up a bowl with candies.

“Want some?”

Peter shook his head, his stomach turning with worry the coming hours. When Peter didn’t take anything, Mr. Stark just shrugged his shoulders and took a lolly for himself.

“So, I’ve heard your teenage rebellion phase has finally started.” Mr. Stark nonchalantly changed topics. “The amazing, do-goody Spider-kid got wasted on a party.”

Peter suppressed an urge to roll his eyes.

“I didn’t get wasted. I wasn’t even at the party.” Peter clarified.

Mr. Stark was looking at Peter thoughtful for a few seconds turning the lolly in his mouth.

“Alright, kid. Just promise the day you decide to get wasted to consult me first. We don’t know how your super-metabolism will react to alcohol and drugs. Self-experimentation without supervision is not the smartest move. Trust me, I’ve been there. And as entertaining as it would be for your YouTube followers, New York doesn’t really need a drunk spider with super-strength crawling on its skyscrapers.”

Peter gave an annoyed sigh. Getting wasted was one of the last things on his list of things he wanted or needed to do.

“Yeah, sure.” Peter answered quickly trying not to sound as annoyed as he was.

“You know, I could lecture you on how you are still too young for alcohol and that drugs are bad… I will leave that lecture to your aunt. I’m not your parent. And you already know you are too young. But if you really want to try it, I would rather you tried it, while I’m there.”

Peter couldn’t suppress a grin. “That’s actually a very parenty thing to suggest, Mr. Stark.”

Now it was Mr. Stark, who rolled his eyes. He threw the tennis ball against Peter again, this time without making it invisible. Peter just kept grinning and let the tennis ball hit him at the shoulder.

“Sit down you little shit.” He pointed at the laptop at the other table. “You’ve got homework. Write down everything what triggers your spidery jumpiness. We will analyze and classify the information afterwards.”

The grin disappeared again out of Peter’s face. Mr. Stark was basically asking him to write down everything that Peter feared and then some. But there was no way in hell, that he would tell Iron Man that his spider-sense was triggered by a 5’2 tall kid called Flash with more fat than muscles. Peter might also leave out that ever since Toomes warehouses almost send his spider-sense into a panic mode.

Cautiously Peter sat down on the laptop. Mr. Stark gave him an approving nod before turning to work on his own computer.

“And Pete,” he said after a while, not turning to face Peter, “I really mean it. Your first drinks are going to be on me and with me, if you don’t want to be handed over to Ross to spend the rest of your teenage life on the raft.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was late afternoon, when Mr. Stark finally decided that Peter and he were done. He ordered three pizza, one for himself and two for Peter. They were sitting in the kitchen island closest to Mr. Stark’s lab on some stylish, but quiet uncomfortable stools.

Peter was tired. While in the beginning testing his spider-sense had been kind of fun, it had gotten tedious quickly. The first few test had basically been a dodge ball games against DUM-E. Then Mr. Stark asked him to wear a blind-fold, and shortly after he added ear-plugs. Since Peter was still winning against DUM-E, Mr. Stark wanted him to wear an Iron Man suit, which Mr. Stark believed would make it impossible for Peter to sense something air movement on his skin. Granted wearing an Iron Man suit had been Peter’s dream ever since he had witnessed Mr. Stark pushing an atomic bomb through a wormhole into space. But wearing an Iron Man suit, that blocked out any information from outside the suit -sight, hearing and touch- made Peter rather uncomfortable. His spider sense had still been working, much to Mr. Stark’s confusion. Actually, blocking out all other senses had just made it more loud.

They had concluded, that his spider-sense literally was another sense, not just the result of having all his other senses enhanced. But this conclusion aside, they weren’t any closer to understanding how his spider-sense worked.

“I really don’t understand it, kid.” Mr. Stark started as he bit a big piece of his pepperoni pizza. “How the hell can your spider-sense predict when the chicken appears on the screen.”

One of Mr. Stark’s last (crazier and more desperate) tests had been letting Peter play various computer games. One of them had been C _razy Chicken._ Peter had never played it before as it had been most popular when he had barely been born. But still he had been quite good at it. He had actually broken the world-record since his spider-sense always told him where the chicken, which one had to shoot, appeared before it actually appeared on the screen.

Peter shrugged his shoulder taking a bite from his pizza.

“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet today, kiddo. What’s up?” Mr. Stark asked his mouth full of pizza.

Again, Peter only gave him a shrug as an answer.

“Are you pouting? Shouldn’t you already be out of your terrible twos?” Mr. Stark looking at Peter with his brows raised. While the older man was clearly trying to only tease lightly, Peter found himself getting angry again.

“Maybe I just don’t like being poked and prodded.” Peter scoffed back.

“Poked and prodded? Kid, you played computer games for the past two hours.” Mr. Stark returned.

Peter put the piece of pizza back into the box. His appetite was suddenly lost. Maybe it hadn’t been there from the start, but Mr. Stark had insisted on buying him not one, but two pizzas.

“I’ve got better things to do.” Peter said back. He closed his pizza box and stood up. “When is Happy picking me up?”

“In half an hour. Now sit down again and eat. Super-metabolism and all.”

“I’m not hungry.” Peter argued.

“God, I can’t believe I almost recruited a toddler to the Avengers. Sit down and eat. We skipped lunch.” Mr. Stark demanded for a second time and pointed at the bar chair next to him.

“Stop teasing me about my age. I’m almost six-teen. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Mr. Stark huffed a laugh. “Almost six-teen. Cute. Sit and eat.”

“I’m serious.” Peter fought back, his cheek getting heated. Mr. Stark might have been right, he was pouting. It was just, he didn’t want to be in the compound. He had to be home. He had to check, if May was alright. When he had left in the morning, she had still been sleeping a he had only left her a quick note that he would be gone to his internship for the day. He had called her in one of the short breaks Mr. Stark had given him, but that was already hours ago. Peter had to see her.

“Fine.” Mr. Stark put his own pizza box away.  “You want to throw temper tantrums. That’s alright. But I, too, have better things to do.”

Mr. Stark stood up. “FRIDAY tell Happy to wait downstairs for Parker.”

He took the three pizza boxes and threw them in the garbage can under one of the kitchen counters.

“Why did you do that?” Peter almost shouted at his mentor incredulously. Did Mr. Stark just throw away three perfectly fine pizzas?

“You said you weren’t hungry and I kind of lost my appetite.” The older man said. “Now I’m going to the lab and Happy will be waiting for you any moment. I will call you, when I need you for some more _poking and prodding._ ”

Before Peter could argue, Mr. Stark had left through the sliding doors leading to the lab. That had escalated quickly. Peter was angry, but as soon as the older man had left the kitchen, another feeling settled in Peter’s stomach. First, he had disappointed Ned, now he had gotten into a fight with Mr. Stark. Peter closed his eyes for a few seconds fighting against tears. Everybody would eventually leave him. His parents, Ben, Ned, Mr. Stark and May. Oh, god May. Mr. Stark didn’t matter. The man could be angry all he wanted. But he had to get home to his aunt.

Peter rushed towards the elevator, but he stopped just as he was about to press the button. Soundlessly, he walked back towards the kitchen area. He gave the door to Mr. Stark’s lab a nervous glance, before he opened the kitchen counter with the garbage can. Peter took out the three pizza boxes. The garbage can was empty except for a few crushed energy drink cans, some protein bar wrappers and coffee residue. Peter decided that it wasn’t really gross to still eat the pizzas. They had been protected in the boxes. Quickly, he rushed out of the kitchen and was relieved to see Happy, who was already waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter muttered a quick goodbye to Happy, before he rushed back into his apartment building, dashed up the stairs until he arrived in front his flat. He looked hastily for his keys in his pockets, while also balancing the three pizzas in one hand. He calmed a bit when he smelled something burned. May was cooking. When he entered the apartment, May was as expected in front of the stove. Dark smoke coming out of the pan. Peter quickly rushed to the window and opened it.

“Honey, you are back!” May greeted him.

“May, how are you?” Peter asked. This was the question which never seemed to leave Peter’s mind. And even when May or her doctor had given him answers, Peter never felt satisfied. He asked how she is, but what he really wanted to know was, how she would be one day from now, two days from now, in a month, in a year.

“I’m good, Peter.” Still, only those three words could make Peter’s racing heart slow down. “How was your internship? They kept you quiet long. That can’t be legal. You are only fifteen!” She told him, while caressing his hair.

“It’s okay. It was fun.”, Peter murmured.

She smiled fondly at him. “I hope you already had dinner. I just burned what was supposed to be burgers.”

Peter smiled back at her. “It’s alright. I brought some pizza.”

She frowned a little bit. “Peter, we agreed that we aren’t going to buy take-outs anymore. It’s cheaper to cook at home.”

“They are left-overs from work. They said it’s fine to take them.”, he quickly explained.

“Well, I will heat it up in the microwave, then we will talk about two phone calls I got.”, May said as she took one of the boxes. She pulled a plate from next to the sink and put the pizza pieces on it and placed them in the microwave.

Peter stiffened.  He hadn’t forgotten that Happy had wanted to call May. May was silent for a while, just staring at the pizza in the microwave.

“Happy from your internship called me. He said he picked you up from a party. He said your friend was very drunk and that he was not so sure about you either. Then Mrs. Leeds called me and chastised _me_ for being an irresponsible parent.” May finally started.

“What? Why? Ugh, I wasn’t even at the stupid party. You have to believe me, May.” Peter explained.

“Mrs. Leeds is convinced that you dragged Ned to that party.”

Peter sank into the foldable chair at their small kitchen table and gave a heavy sigh.

“I just picked him up. I wasn’t even at the party.” Peter explained again. The microwave beeped. May checked if the pizza was already warm. Unsatisfied, she set the microwave for a few more seconds and turned around again.

May stared at him. The only noise was the humming of the microwave. Her arms were folded around her as if she was cold or uncomfortable. Peter frowned as he wondered if she had always been so thin.

“I know, honey.” She said. “I saw the money you left on the counter. You worked two shifts. You couldn’t have gone to the party. But Peter, you are fifteen. You can’t work that much and that late.” She told him. She sat down on the other chair opposite of him and took his hand into hers.

“My boss offered me five dollars more per hour. The other guy hasn’t shown up for his shift.” Peter tried to explain.

“You are fifteen. It’s illegal for you to work after 9 p.m.” May reminded him.

“I think my boss has forgotten that I’m fifteen. Because all the other delivery guys are sixteen or up.” Peter explained.

“That doesn’t make it legal or any better. Just promise me to be home by ten next time.”

Peter gave a hesitant nod. “Alright. No illegal child labor anymore. Got it.” He tried to make it sound light, but May’s face grew dark.

“I wish that Mrs. Leeds was right.” She said with a sigh.

“What?”

“I wish we would have discussions about underage drinking and not about underage illegal working hours.”

“It’s alright.” Peter muttered, pulling his hand away from May. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, blood rushing to his head. The microwave beeped again. May stood up to get their dinner.

“You’re saying that a lot recently.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Dude, I have house arrest until Christmas.” Ned said on Monday morning. They had just entered the school building, leaving their jackets in their lockers. Over the weekend Peter had only gotten a short message from Ned that he was alright. Peter didn’t get any answers for his follow-up questions. Apparently, Mrs. Leeds had taken Ned’s phone.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Peter apologized.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, man.” Ned argued. “You had to work, I get it. You picked me up, which was like really cool. I can’t remember a thing though. How did we get home? Tell me we swung home!”

Peter rolled his eyes, but also grinned as he saw his friend’s excited face.

“If you can’t remember it, what is it worth to you?” Peter asked.

“We swung home? For real? Am I on YouTube?” Ned questioned excitedly, almost jumping like a little kid.

Peter was wondering if he should let Ned believe that he had carried Ned home by swinging through New York, but then decided to be honest.

“Happy picked us up.”

Ned froze. “What? Happy? Like in Happy Hogan? Tony Stark’s bodyguard?”

“He isn’t Mr. Stark’s bodyguard anymore.” Peter clarified. But Ned didn’t seem to be interested in that bit of information. He groaned and put a hand on his face.

“Oh, god. Now I will never get a job with SI!”

Peter patted his friend’s shoulders. “Because Tony Stark loathes drinking and partying?”

Ned gave him a shy, crooked smile.

“By the way, did you bring me your old backpack? I can’t let Flash see me like this.” Peter showed the jute bag, in which he had carried his books and homework this morning. Peter can’t remember ever eating Whole Foods but May had a bag from the pricey supermarket for some reason. Their logo was printed in big green letters on both sides of the bag.

Ned’s smile disappeared again. “My mom wouldn’t let me take it. She kind of blames you for Friday night.”

Peter pressed his lips together trying not to show his disappointed. “You didn’t tell her that I hadn’t even been at the party?”

“Dude, if she knew that I went there alone and called you instead of her to bring me home, she would kill me. I would be grounded until Christmas _next year_.”

Peter took a deep breath. “It’s alright, Ned. It’s better that she is angry at me than you. May was very chill about the phone call with your mum.”

“Nice bag, doofus.” MJ suddenly appeared at their lockers. “Hurry up, I don’t want to sit in the front of seats of the assembly.”

“What? No? We have math now.” Ned protested, but MJ had already taken Peter’s sleeve and pulled him after her.

Just as Peter wanted to stop her, there was announcement through the speakers. “All students please assemble in the gym hall now.”

 

* * *

 

MJ, Peter and Ned sat down in the last row of the bleacher in the gym hall. Most of the students where excitedly chatting, when Mr. Morita entered the hall. The principal quickly greeted all the students before explaining, why they had assembled. Apparently, the school had taken notice that there was an increase of drug usage between the student. His short introduction was followed by power-point presentation by Mr. Cobbwell about the consequences of drug abuse and a second more awkward presentation by Mr. Wilson showing for- and after pictures of athletes and celebrities who got addicted.

Most students seemed to use this first school hour on a Monday morning to catch up on sleep, while others where excitedly chatting on the phone. Somebody had explained in their class’ WhatsApp group that Micky, a kid from the other class, had also taken some drugs on Cindy’s party and had ended up in the hospital. Flash wrote in the group that Micky suffered brain damage; another student claimed that he was in a coma. Peter knew not to trust those rumors, but he gave Ned a worried glance. Ned had taken a drug, too. Ned could have been the one in the hospital. Ned apparently thought similar things as he had paled visibly as he read the group chat.

Peter also saw Cindy sitting in the corner of the hall. Probably nobody else was noticing it, but Peter could hear her sniffing. Her heart beat was elevated as if she was in distress. She must feel bad about somebody getting hurt on her party.

The short lectures about drug abuse were followed by a PSA video with Captain America. Usually Peter enjoyed those videos, but today was different. He didn’t really know Micky, just that he had been a tall, gangly kid, who had been one of the better basketball players in the Midtown team.

“Who sells drugs to kids?” Peter asked quietly, while Captain America was still lecturing them on drugs.

“What do you mean? Other kids of course.” Ned answered. “There is this guy, a senior. He sold them on the party.”

“Do you think you can point him out to me?” Peter wondered.

Ned eyes got wide. “You want to, you know, …do your thing against him?”

Peter gave a firm nod.

“Sure,” Ned stuttered, “I can show you who sold the drugs.” 

 

* * *

 

 It was early afternoon, when school finally ended. Usually Peter had his Spider-Man suit with him, so that he can do his patrol immediately after school. Unfortunately, today he had left it at home, hidden in one of his unemptied boxes. He couldn’t have put the suit in the jute bag as he couldn’t close the bag. Still, he tailed Bobby Austen, Midtown’s own high school drug dealer. Peter didn’t exactly know what he was going to do. He could confront Bobby or find out who provided Bobby with the drugs.  

Peter was walking about twenty meters behind the boy. Tailing people really wasn’t to hard for Peter, his heightened senses were doing him a favor again. Even in a crowd Peter could pick out a single person’s heartbeat.

After school Bobby got a coffee from Starbucks and burgers in three paper bags from a street vender. He drowned the coffee and devoured the food before heading to a park. He threw the empty paper bags and the Starbucks cup into a trash can and sat down on one of the benches facing an empty playground. Then he took out a book, which Peter recognized as the math book for the senior year. Bobby seemed to do his homework. With a sigh Peter sat behind a tree on the moist ground and buried his hand under his armpits. It was a cold day. He wondered what kind of drug dealer bothered with doing his math homework. Maybe Ned had gotten it wrong, maybe Bobby hadn’t been the one who had sold the drugs to him. Peter decided to stay for a while. Doing homework on a cold day in an empty park was still odd. It was a good place for a drug deal though.

Some time had passed, and Peter had almost dozed off, when he heard another voice. Peter saw a chubby kid, who had to be younger than Peter, approach Bobby.

“Fifty… fifty dollars, right? That’s… that’s what Flash said.” The kid asked, a bundle of bank notes in his hand. The kid was stuttering, obviously very nervous about the situation. Bobby on the other hand seemed to be completely relaxed.

The older teenager just gave a confirmative nod. He took the boy’s money and started counting it.

“See the trash can there?” Bobby nodded towards the other bench. “Maybe you will get lucky there. Look for a white paper bag.”

 At first the kid seemed confused, but then he hesitantly walked towards the trash can. That was the first time Peter saw the kid’s face clearly. He couldn’t have been older than twelve. His eyes were big, his nose small and freckled. Anger built up in Peter. The boy was to young, far to young to try drugs.

Before Peter knew, what he was doing, he ran towards the kid. Bobby jumped off the bench, clearly getting ready to run away, but he stopped as Peter came closer. The younger boy seemed startled, but to scared to run.

“Penis Parker.”, Bobby said. “What are you doing here?”        

Peter took paper bags out of the trash can and checked their content. Each of them contained a smaller plastic bag with a few pink pills inside.

“Hey,” Bobby shouted, “What the fuck are you doing, Parker?”

The younger boy was staring at Peter, his eyes wide with fear.

“Please, don’t tell my parents.” The kid muttered.

“Go home.” Peter said firmly. “I won’t tell anybody, if you leave now.”

The kid nodded. He seemed unsteady at first as he slowly walked away, but as soon as he was a few meters away, he started sprinting.

Bobby was looking at Peter intensively. “What the fuck, Parker? Do you want to get beat up?”

Peter glared back at Bobby. “What is wrong with you? The kid couldn’t have been older than twelve.”

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. “So what?”

“Drugs are dangerous!” Peter yelled at the other boy.

Bobby grinned. “So, what. They are going to the same smart kids' school as we do. They know it’s dangerous. I’m not making them buy it.”

Angrily Peter put the pills out of the plastic bags. “Stop that, Parker!”

But Peter had already all the pills in his hands. He squished between his fingers.

“Parker.” Bobby shouted and reached out for Peter’s hand, but Peter ducked away quick enough. Next thing Bobby tried to hit Peter, but elegantly Peter avoided Bobby’s fist.

“What do you care about those spoiled, rich brats, Parker.” Bobby hissed as his second fist missed Peter, too.

“A kid is in the hospital.”

“What do I care?” Bobby argued. “Look, I’m just taking care of myself, Parker. Those spoiled, rich kids have money to spare and I need money. My mum is sick.”

At that Peter froze. If Bobby would have tried to hit him in that moment, he probably would have accomplished it.  But Bobby just looked at him. There was suddenly a desperate expression in the other boy’s face.

“Peter,” Bobby started, his raised fists falling to his sides. “I’ve heard about you. I know you understand. I know you are like me. We are two of only eleven kids in our school, who get school lunch for free, because we are _poor_. We have to work our asses of to get scholarships, to have a chance on something better, but life just keeps screwing with us.”

Peter had to gulp. Before Ned had pointed Bobby out to him, Peter hadn’t even known him. Bobby on the other hand seemed to have noticed Peter before.

“What…what does your mum have?” Peter asked.

“Breast cancer.” Bobby answered shortly.

“Which stage?” Peter wanted to know further. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

“Two.”

“That’s not too bad.” Peter said, but Bobby just frowned.

“I mean,” Peter continued, suddenly nervous, “I mean… my aunt, she has stage III cancer.”

At that Bobby’s eyes widened. Peter gulped. He hadn’t told anybody that his aunt is sick, not even Ned or MJ. He just didn’t know how to. Saying it out loud made it so much more real. Peter couldn’t believe, that the first person he told about his aunt was a drug dealing boy he had met minutes ago.

“I’m sorry, man.” Bobby said. “You are living with her, right?”

“How do you know that?” Peter wondered.

“You are Midtown’s orphan boy. Everybody knows about you, Parker. Tragedies are the best gossip stories.”

There was a heavy silence between the boys for a few seconds.

“Look Parker. You just destroyed pills worth 200 dollars. I will let it slide and feed my boss some story about the lost pills. But I’m not going to be that soft next time.” Bobby decided. “Keep out of my way, alright.”

Peter gave a silent nod. Peter would let Bobby go, but Spiderman wouldn’t.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Tiredly Peter walked home from work. He had worked until mid-night again but May probably wouldn’t notice as she had a late shift herself. The past three days been frustrating. He had spent every afternoon watching Bobby as Spider-Man instead of confronting him dressed up as the vigilante. He couldn’t have beaten Bobby up or handed him over to the police. He was just a struggling kid, trying to provide for his mother. The real criminals were the guys, who sold the drugs to him. Peter had hoped to find out who those dealers were by watching Bobby, but Bobby hadn’t met them even once. Apparently, their only contact was via phone. Bobby didn’t even meet them to get the drugs. He picked dead drops up all over Queens and never at the same place.

Observing Bobby was frustrating, not only because he hadn’t gotten any information, but because Peter had witnessed several drug deals with students and Peter had to suppress the urge to interfere.

It had been a long day at work. It had been raining earlier and one of their clients had complaint, that the pizza had been already cold, when Peter had delivered it. Of course, somehow, it was Peter’s fault that the weather was shitty, and that the client had lived five blocks away. His boss had taken some money out of his pay as the clients had demanded their money back.

Of course, once his Parker luck decided to give him a shitty day, it would go full out. Peter was in front of the entrance of his apartment building, when his spider-sense was warning him of some danger. Four men were behind him. They had sunglasses on, even though it was dark outside. That was weird, but not the weirdest thing one could encounter in New York. What was really worrisome though was that they seemed particularly interested in Peter. Spiderman could overpower four men, but as Peter was without his suit. He knew better than to confront them, he couldn’t risk his secret identity just to deal with four street muggers. He quickly pulled out his key and tried to unlock the door, while the men started to run his direction. Peter had just opened the door, when felt something felt something hard pressing against his back. One of the men was standing behind him, breathing down his neck. His spider-sense was screaming at him not to move. Peter didn’t need the man to say it to know what was pressing against his spine.

“I have gun, kid.” The man whispered in his ear. “You don’t shout, you don’t struggle. We just want to have a short conversation, alright? Nod, if you understand.”

Peter’s heart started racing. He had never been shot. Certainly, Spider-Man had been shot at, but Peter wasn’t so sure if a bullet in his abdomen was something that even he could survive. He wasn’t bulletproof after all. Peter gave a hesitant nod.

The man grabbed his shoulder painfully and manhandled him away from the entrance behind the building into a dark alley.

He pushed Peter against the wall and pressed his arm against his throat, while pressing the gun against his stomach. The three other man were standing behind him. They seemed relaxed; they didn’t expect Peter to fight them.

“Listen, kid. Bobby had told us that you had stolen from him.” The man hissed into his ears. “Bobby might have thought that it was alright, but our Boss certainly doesn’t.”

Peter gulped, when the barrel of the gun pressed harder against his stomach.

“This is the only warning you are getting. If you bother Bobby ever again or try to call the police, you will regret it. Do you understand?”

Peter gave him a hesitant nod again.

“Speak up, boy. Do you understand?” Peter could feel spit hitting his face as the man shouted at him. The man’s breath smelled foul, like he had a rotting tooth. Or several rotting teeth.

“Yes, yes, I understand.” Peter answered, his own voice sounded distant to him.

“Good.” The man said, letting go of Peter’s throat and releasing the pressure of the gun against his stomach a bit. Then he stared to ransack Peter pockets. He grinned, when he found Peter’s wallet. He threw it to one the men behind him.

“How much is inside?” He wanted to know.

“Thirty dollars.”

“Doesn’t cover what you owe us, but if we also count what we have taken from your aunt, we can say that we are even.” The man explained.

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. “What did you do to my aunt?” He yelled at the man.

The pressure against Peter’s throat returned. “Don’t shout at me, boy. We thought we should emphasize the severity of our threat a bit. Don’t worry, your aunt is fine. A broken arm. Nothing that won’t heal in a few weeks.”

“You asshole!” Peter shouted. He freed himself out of the man’s grip and before Peter knew what he was doing he could feel the man’s nasal bone breaking under his fist.

“You little shit!” The man cursed, blood flowing out of his nose. He tried to hit Peter, but Peter dodged on time.

“Do you want us to hurt your aunt more permanently?” The man grunted. At that Peter froze again.

The man grinned again and brushed some of the blood away from his mouth. “Thought so.”

Next think Peter felt the barrel of the gun hitting his face and his vision was suddenly lost. One of the other guys pushed him to the ground, before several boots connected with his stomach and back. They kicked him hard for what must have been only a few seconds but felt like much more.

Peter didn’t dare to move or even breath even after he heard the man walk away. Only when their steps were also lost to his super-hearing, Peter dared to get to his feet. His vision was fuzzy, and he was certain that he had a concussion. He stumbled to the entrance of the apartment, blood dripping from his face to the floor.

He climbed up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. He almost fell down twice before he arrived in front of his entrance building. With shaking hands, he tried to open the door and it took him a few tries before he finally managed.

“May!” Peter shouted into the apartment. But there was no answer. The lights were off, there was no sign of May. Peter looked for his phone in the pocket and was relieved to find it. His muggers hadn’t taken this at least. Peter dialed May’s number and held it with a trembling hand against his ear.

It only rang once, before May picked up her phone.

“Peter, honey. I just wanted to call you.”, May said.

“May, where are you?” Peter wanted to know. He tried desperately to hide the panic in his voice.

“Please, don’t freak out, okay?” May started. Her voice sounded as shaken as he felt.

“What happened?”  Peter went to the bathroom with the phone still in his hand. He looked at himself in the mirror. Half of his face was covered in blood. There was gash just above his right eyebrow.

“I got mugged. I have just finished talking to the police.”

Peter gulped. “Where are you?”

“I’m still in the hospital. My arm is broken. Can you take a cab and pick me up?” She asked. May sounded scared. Peter knew that his aunt was young, too young to be anybody’s aunt anyway - Mr. Stark had been right about that. And she was far too young to be a widow. But she had never seemed younger to Peter than right now. She sounded like girl.

“Yes, of course, May. Which hospital?” Peter stuttered.

“The Presbyterians.” She answered.

“I will be there in twenty minutes.” Peter decided.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter took a few minutes to clean up his face. He tried putting a plaster on it, but it fell off immediately as it got soaked up in blood. He took a few paper towels and pressed it against his forehead instead. If he was lucky, his healing factor would have closed the wound before he arrived at the hospital.

Peter took out their last money of the top drawer next to the entrance. It was barely enough money for one cab. He considered calling Happy again, to save some money. But he couldn’t call the man only days after the incident with Ned. With a sigh, Peter took his web-shooters and pulled Spider-Man’s mask over his head. He would swing to the hospital and only take the cab for the way back.

He headed to the small window and jumped out into the cold night.

“Hello Peter.” Karen greeted him as he started swinging between New York’s skyscrapers. “You seem to be hurt, and your elevated heart rate suggests that you are in distress. Do you need me to contact Mr. Stark?”

“What? No! It’s barely more than a papercut. I’m fine.”

“Alright, Peter. Did you have a nice day? How was your Spanish test?”, she asked. It took Peter a moment to remember that he had a test today, even a quite important one. But his day had felt longer than some weeks. With May getting mugged, the Spanish test suddenly seemed irrelevant.

“It was good.” Peter answered.

“That’s good. May I remind you that it is past twelve and that you have school tomorrow? You should head home.”

“Soon, Karen. I just need to pick up May. No worries, I’m not patrolling.” Peter explained to the AI. Karen got quiet for a while, almost if she knew that Peter wasn’t in the mood for talking. He was almost at the hospital, when she spoke up again.

“You have an incoming call. Tony is calling.” Karen informed him. Peter huffed annoyed. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to Mr. Stark now, but he knew that even if he declined the call, Mr. Stark would force his way through.

“Pick it up, Karen.”

“Hey spiderling,” Mr. Stark greeted him in his usual energetic, fake enthusiastic voice. “A bit late to be patrolling. I can see that you have… math in the morning. Kind of an important subject.”

“Just ten more minutes. I’m not patrolling. May broke her arm and I’m picking her up.”

“What happened?” Mr. Stark’s voice suddenly turned heavier.

“She got mugged.” Peter informed the man.

“Is she alright?” Mr. Stark wanted to know.

“Obviously no. She broke her arm.” Peter answered more snappish than he had intended.

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds.

“You need anything?” Mr. Stark offered.

_Money? A new backpack? Dinner?_

_Somebody to tell him that everything was going to be alright?_

“No.”

Peter could hear Mr. Stark sigh. “Look kid, I know it’s not the right time. But there are two things we need to discuss.”

When Peter didn’t say anything, Mr. Stark just continued. “First, I’m sorry. I should have kept calm on Saturday. I’m the adult between the two of us and I acted childish. I’m not saying that you attitude was any better, but I should have acted differently.”

Peter blushed a bit as he remembered his temper-tantrum in the man’s kitchen. Peter had been the one to act childish.

“It’s alright, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry, too.”

Mr. Stark breathed out, obviously relieved to have this part of the conversation over.

“Second,” Mr. Stark said, “I didn’t make any progress regarding understanding your mysterious six sense. My AI are getting better in analyzing where an invisible object is, but Rhodey and I decided to take you with us on next fight against Hydra.”

“What?” Peter asked, almost not believing what Mr. Stark had just said. For the first time in days, Peter was getting excited about something.

“Yes. But not without preparing you. Hydra is dangerous and I’m not sending you into a fight against invisible enemies without even any basic training. The next few weekends you are going to train with Nat and Rhodey.”

A few weeks ago, Peter would have been extremely excited about this offer. But Peter had to work on the weekends, now. Peter was painfully aware that he and May both got mugged, loosing probably as much as he usually earned in a week.

“I can only stay for the afternoons, Mr. Stark.” Peter offered as a compromise. He could still do his delivery tour in the evenings.

“Why?” Mr. Stark wanted to know.

“I… May just got mugged. I can’t leave her alone.” Peter was surprised, how easily he had told this half-truth. Mr. Stark seemed to think about his answer for a few secods.

“Okay, kid. I understand. Happy will pick you up like last week, alright?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

 

* * *

 

 

May fell into bed as soon as they arrived in the apartment. They had given her some pretty heavy pain meds. She had been quite unsteady while walking and she had fallen asleep twice during the cab drive. Peter took of her shoes and covered her with a blanket.

“How does your head feel?” She asked him sleepily with her eyes alright closed.

“I don’t feel a thing,” Peter lied. A headache had been constant ever since he had left the hospital.  At least some nurse had put a butterfly bandage on the gash without making him officially check-in in the hospital.

“You really need to be more careful, hun.” She murmured. Luckily, she had believed Peter’s story that had ran into a door as he had rushed to get her. He couldn’t have told her that he had been mugged by drug dealers. May didn’t need to know that the people who had mugged her, had actually been some gangsters, who were angry at Peter for disrupting 200-dollar drug deals.

“How much money, do we have left?” She whispered and Peter wasn’t sure if she was already sleeping.

“Nothing.” Peter answered in a voice almost as low as hers.

“I miss Ben.” She said.

“Me too.”


	4. Chapter 4

May was looking at him from the bed as he heated up water for one instant coffee for May and a tea for himself. He split the last contents of the cereal box between two bowls and took out a carton of milk. Just before he started pouring the milk in the bowls, his spider-sense made him stop.

He smelled the box and immediately threw it into the garbage can.

“The milk is sour.” Peter explained and May just gave a silent nod.

He put their meager breakfast on a cutting board and carried it to the bed.

“How are you feeling, May?” Peter asked as he sat down next to her, taking a sip from his tea. He tried not to grimace as the sweet taste met his tongue. The tea was not sweet because Peter liked it that way, but because he figured putting sugar in stuff was a cheap way to increase his calorie intake. Half a bowl of dry cereal wasn’t going to do anything against his growling stomach, especially because he had skipped dinner the night before.

“It’s okay, my arm hurts a bit, but that’s it.” She answered. “How is your head, honey? It looks much better.”

“It’s good.” Peter said and absentmindedly touched the cut on his forehead. This time it wasn’t a lie, it really didn’t hurt anymore. It would be gone all together in less than a day.

“We don’t have any food more in the fridge. I just wanted to buy groceries, when… you know.” May informed him. Peter took her hand, squeezed it and gave a sympathetic smile. May had been mugged during her break at work. She had wanted to use her free hour do to finish the groceries for the weekend, when those thugs had attacked her. That was also the reason, why May had quiet a lot of money on her that evening.

“I understand. It’s alright.” Peter said.

“Can you… I don’t know… have dinner at Ned’s house today?” May suggested staring at the bowl, clearly embarrassed of sending Peter to another house to get food. She was turning the cereal in the bowl with the spoon, not eating anything.

“I… Ned has house arrest. And Mrs. Leeds is not my biggest fan right now. She thinks the party thing was my fault.” Peter explained.

May looked up again. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”, she said and caressed his hair. “If you want, I can talk to her…”, she offered, but Peter just shook his head.

“You know how she is. I don’t want to get Ned into even more trouble. I’m delivering today again. I’m sure I will get a bite of something at the pizzeria.” Peter told May. “But what are you going to eat? You can’t take your pain medication without food.”

“I… I will be fine.”

“It’s not fine, May. You need to eat, too.”

She glared at him, suddenly angry. “Peter, we lost all of our money yesterday,” She said sternly. “Short of going to the soup kitchen, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Peter’s throat suddenly felt tight; swallowing was almost painful. They had always been poor, even when Ben had been alive. Money had been a discussion on most days, and it had resulted in a lot of arguing between his aunt and uncle. Most things they owned were bought in thrift shops. If they had ever gone on a vacation, it had been a camping trips in the state of New York. They had gone to great length to save on anything really, clothes, food, energy… His whole life Peter had been poor, but still he had never been as aware of their poverty as he was now.

“I… I can skip school and ask my boss if I can have the lunch shift.” Peter offered.

“You are not going to skip school.” May immediately answered. There was something dangerous in her eyes. She was mad. “If there is one thing, we are not going to compromise on, it’s your education.”

Peter fell silent. He had barely started eating, but his appetite was gone.

“May, this is bad.”, he said after a while. “How are you going to work with a broken arm? We had agreed that you would work at least a few more weeks.”

“I can’t work with a broken arm. They would send me home.” May stated. She sounded absent, emotionless as if she hadn’t realized what her leaving work earlier than planned implemented.

“You… we have to eat, May! We… we have money. The money, we put aside in your bank account… to pay next months’ rent. We will have to use that.”

“Peter, if we start using that money, we will not be able to pay rent. We will be evicted.” May explained.

Peter put his breakfast on the floor next to the bed and stood up, his face suddenly getting hot, “It’s food or home now? We have to pick one over the other?”

He had raised his voice, but when he saw May’s ashamed look, he regretted it.

“I will… I will figure something out, sweetie. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, you are stuck with me.”

“No. Don’t say that.” Peter slumped back onto the squeaky mattress.

May reached out and went with her hand through the teenager’s brown curls. Peter leaned into her touch and closed his eyes for a few seconds. His eyes were burning, but he tried not cry.

“You need to go to school. You are already late.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Can you believe it?” Ned complained, while they walked to their math class. “I’m only allowed to use the computer one hour per day!”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Better than nothing.”

“And she is checking the browser history afterwards. That must be some violation of my privacy. I can only use the computer for school stuff!” Ned continued ranting about his mom’s ‘cruel’ punishment.

“Yeah, seems unfair.” Peter said, without really meaning it. To be honest, he agreed with Mrs. Leeds. Ned had been irresponsible and taking away his electronics and giving him house arrest, didn’t seem unjust to Peter.

“Totally unfair, dude.” Ned eagerly agreed. He clearly hadn’t noticed Peter being uninterested in his complains.

“So, where did you get hurt? Did you fight somebody?” Ned pointed at Peter’s forehead. The butterfly bandage was still there.

“Yeah, some muggers.” Peter grunted.

“Did you kick their asses?” Ned questioned further.

“Uh, yeah. Of course.” Peter lied.

“Man, I wish I had your life.”

Peter pressed his lips together. A lot of bitter comments were burning on Peter’s mind, but he just swallowed his anger.

 

* * *

 

 

His day at school had been uneventful and somehow school also managed to distract Peter from his problems. Ned had showed him the newest Spider-Man videos on YouTube during their history class together with some ridiculous fan theories, who Spider-Man actually was.

“I’ve decided, the one, where you lift that car is my favorite one this week.” Ned whispered into his ears, as they were waiting to get food. Cafeteria food was never amazing, especially on Fridays, when the kitchen staff seemed to have run out of any motivation, if they ever had any. But it didn’t stop Peter’s mouth from watering as he was standing in the line, smelling some stew out of dubious meat. He had skipped dinner the day before and his breakfast had been very sparse as well.

“What’s your favorite?” Ned wanted to know. He was much less interested in the food than Peter was.

“I don’t have a favorite video of myself, Ned.” Peter answered.

“Why not? I bet Iron Man has a favorite video of himself.”

Peter scoffed. Ned was right. Peter could definitely imagine, Mr. Stark having a video of himself as Iron Man, which he showed off as often as possible, if only to annoy the people around him.

A bored kitchen staff filled up Peter’s tray with the stew, some boiled potatoes and some overcooked, greyish vegetables. Ned grimaced as looked at the food on his own tray.

“They could at least try to make it edible.” Ned said after they had left the serving counter. Peter hummed in agreement. He was hungry and was going to inhale the food, but that didn’t mean that he actually liked it. 

“I wish they would serve fries again.” Peter added to the complains. The school had tried to make the food less fat, much to the dismay of the teenage super-hero with a super-metabolism. Instead of fries they now usually serve a few floury, boiled potatoes and something what resembled vegetables.

“Yeah, stupid health policies.” Ned murmured.

Peter pointed towards the entrance of the cafeteria. “There is a free table, let’s…”  

Peter froze as his spider-sense warned him about approaching ‘danger’. It was Flash of course.

“Hey Penis.” His bully greeted Peter. “A Whole Foods bag? Really?” Flash commented. Peter had avoided Flash the whole week, but at some point, Flash had to notice Peter’s replacement for his torn backpack.

“Fuck off, Flash.” Peter told the other boy. Anger was building up in his chest.

“What did you say to me?” Flash stepped closer to Peter glaring at him angrily. Flash wasn’t used to Peter being anything other than defensive, but today Peter was tired, hungry and annoyed even before Flash had decided to torment him once again.

“I said, fuck off, Eugene.” Peter said again, but louder. The cafeteria grew quiet and wide-eyed students glared at the pair.

Flash grabbed Peter food tray and pushed it upwards. The stew got spilled on Peter’s shirt, the other food rolled on the floor.

“Fuck you, Flash!” Peter shouted at Flash. “Don’t you have anything better to? That was my lunch!”

Flash scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He replied sarcastically, “I know, it’s probably the only meal you get per day. You even get it for free, don’t you? Midtown’s charity case.”

Peter clenched his teeth. He felt that if he answered anything to that, the situation would escalate.

But Flash wasn’t wise enough to stop. “Your boyfriend over there can give you his lunch. He could use a diet. Except of course if he was planning on a sumo wrestling carrier.”

Peter glanced at Ned, whose face had turned red in embarrassment. Peter threw his now empty food tray on the floor and took a step towards Flash noticing for the first time that he was actually taller than the other boy.

“Leave us alone, Flash.” Peter said his tone warning. But Flash just smirked at him as if all he had wanted was to stir Peter up. Something about his condescending smirk made Peter snap. The anger in his chest seemed to move Peter’s fists on his own. Just before he hit Flash’s face, Peter remembered to restrain his super-strength. Still, when Peter’s fist connected with Flash’s eye, Flash stumbled and fell.

The cafeteria suddenly turned loud. The student gasped in shock or started murmuring.

Flash looked up at him with shocked, fearful eyes. He pressed one hand against his hurt eye.  Peter could hear the boy’s racing heartbeat. Flash was a bully, but except for a few pushes and punches, he had never gotten physically violent. Flash had probably never been in a real fight.

It took Peter a few seconds to realize that something else was wrong. The cafeteria was not only loud, but too loud. He could the students’ breathing, several whispered conversations were suddenly so loud, as if somebody was shouting in his ear. He looked at Ned, hoping to find some help, but Ned was just glaring at him with wide, shocked eyes.

Breathing suddenly got difficult. The smell of the stew, grease and something burned from the kitchen almost made him puke. The light was too bright. Peter was having a sensory overload or a panic attack. Or both.

He started running.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter was sitting in a narrow, alley not too far from his school. The sensory overload had passed after a few torturous minutes. Tears were running down his face and for once Peter didn’t attempt to stop them. Nobody was there to see them anyway.

Peter had been starring at his phone, ever since the sensory overload had passed. Ned had been calling him, but he hadn’t picked up. Instead, his display showed Mr. Starks phone number. Peter’s thumb was hovering over the call button.

Mr. Stark had money and Ned had been right the man owed him. And it was not like that it would be any trouble to give Peter some money. It would take Mr. Stark two seconds to transfer some money to May’s account, and May’s and his financial problems would be solved. Their rent was to Mr. Stark probably what was pocket change to normal people. Peter could buy a backpack, food and the threat of homelessness would disappear.

In his head Pete had tried to phrase his explanation for Mr. Stark, but nothing sounded right.

_“Hey, Mr. Stark. How are you? Yeah, I know I should be in school. Listen, May and I are kind of broke and we can’t buy groceries. Can you help us to pay for food and rent?”_

_“Good morning, Mr. Stark. It’s Peter. I’m sorry to bother you, but May and I are in financial trouble. Could you help us out, Sir?”_

_“Hello Mr. Stark? Is there a possibility that I get paid for my fake internship? May and I are a bit broke, and we could use some money, and you have a lot, so…”_

_“Hi, Mr. Stark. Uh. Can I have some lunch money and a new backpack, please?”_

Everything sounded pathetic to Peter. He couldn’t just approach his mentor and hero and ask him for money. May and Ben had never asked anybody for help. They had rather worked double and triple shifts. They had also never complained, even though life had treated them quite unfairly. Financially everything had always seemed to go wrong for the couple. First of all, Peter knew that he had been a financial huge burden for the two of them. They had never planned on getting children, and then suddenly they had one more mouth to feed, nonetheless. But they had never complained. They had sucked it up and worked hard. Peter couldn’t imagine Ben had ever been sitting in a dark, dirty alley and crying his eyes out, just because he had been forced to skip a few meals.

Peter should just toughen up, too. Take a few extra shifts at work and everything would be fine.

Still, calling Mr. Stark would be so… easy.

 _‘Dude, the teachers are looking_ for _you.’_ A message from Ned popped up on his screen.

 _‘Where are you?’_  His friend continued. ‘ _You are being called to the Morita’s office.’_

Peter gulped and closed the address book on his phone. He wiped his tears away and stood up again.

He wouldn’t call Mr. Stark, Peter could handle it.

 

* * *

 

 

Annoyed Peter tried to clean up the food which he spilled over his shirt. The bathroom was empty as the classes had started already, but Peter didn’t plan on going into the classroom with his lunch all over his shirt. Peter felt his eyes getting wet again as he realized that those stains are never going to get out.

Mr. Morita had chewed Peter out for fifteen minutes and Peter had gotten detention every day for two months. Luckily, Mr. Morita hadn’t made May come to school as Peter had explained that May had broken a leg. The principal had instead written a letter for May to sign, in which he explained how Peter had punched Flash. Flash had gotten away without any punishment. Peter considered that to be quite unfair. Flash had purposely knocked over his food and he had called Ned a Sumo wrestler. But somehow Flash was the victim now. He had even gotten picked up by his mother, because he had complained to be in too much pain to focus. The principal had made Peter apologize to Flash and then to Flash’s mother, a woman, who looked like she had been pulled out from either a business meeting or from a fashion show. She had been wearing a white and black, checked blazer and slim trousers and a handbag, which looked more expensive than all of Peter’s and May’s clothes together. The woman had just stared at Peter and told the principal that she was surprised that the school accepted those kinds of people. Whatever those kinds of people meant. The principal had muttered some more apologizes, seemingly embarrassed. What about, Peter hadn’t been sure.

Peter shirt was now pretty much wet, and he tried to dry it with a handful of paper towels.

Peter could hear the bathroom door opening and somebody entering the room. Peter didn’t look, who it was and just kept trying to dry his shirt off.

“Hey Parker.” Bobby greeted him. Peter fave him a quick glance and turned his attention back to his shirt. He sighed in annoyance.

“What do you want, Austen? I have already enough on my plate.” Peter snapped at the boy.

“I wanted to apologize.” Bobby explained, unmoved by Peter’s rudeness.

Peter looked up again and noticed bruises on Bobby’s face for the first time. Somebody had beaten him up. Violently.

“What happened to your face?” Peter wanted to know.

“Occupational hazard.” Bobby answered and shrugged. He leaned against a wall and folded his arms in front of him.

“I’m really sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have given them your name. It was just… they said some stuff and I was hurt and tired, and it just slipped out. I’m sorry.”

Peter swallowed and turned his attention back to his shirt. There wasn’t much he could do about the stain or wetness anymore, but it was easier to fidget with his shirt than to look into Bobby’s bruised face.

“I don’t care about me.” Peter said, “But they hurt my aunt. They broke her leg.”

“I know. I’m sorry, really man. I didn’t want them to hurt you or your aunt.” Bobby insisted. Peter turned to Bobby. He took a few quick steps towards the boy and grabbed him by his collar.

“But it happened.” Peter spat into his face. “My already sick aunt has a broken leg.”

“I know.” Bobby repeated. “And I’m sorry. Really, I didn’t want this.”

Peter glared at Bobby. It was silent in the bathroom, except for Bobby’s loud, panicked breathing.

Just as the silence got uncomfortable long, Peter’s stomach started growling loudly. Embarrassed Peter let go of Bobby and turned away. Peter had already opened the door to leave the bathroom, when Bobby’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Parker, wait,” he said.

“What?”

“I… I saw Flash knocking over your lunch. If you want, I can buy you dinner after school. There is this new burger store close by. I have nothing planned and you look a bit… exhausted.”

Peter blinked a few times. Was a drug dealer pitying him?

He almost said yes, because his stomach had been growling ever since he had woken up. He had skipped dinner and only had a meager breakfast. Now he had also been forced to skip lunch and he knew that there was no food waiting for him at home. Before the bite, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal to skip a few meals. It would have been uncomfortable, sure, but he wouldn’t have been painfully hungry.

Now, just the thought of food made his mouth water.  But there was no way, that Peter would accept food bought by drug money.

“No thanks.” Peter answered and left to his next class.


	5. Chapter 5

 

“Why is the kid on the ceiling?”, Colonel Rhodes robotic sounding voice came out of his War Machine suit. Mr. Stark was casually sitting on the only table in the gym, busy with typing something on his laptop. He quickly glanced towards Peter, who was glued with both hands and feet on the ceiling over the boxing ring.  Peter could swear that Mr. Stark’s lips had had turned to a bemused smile for a second, before the man turned back to his work, seemingly uninterested in Peter’s training with Colonel Rhodes.

“There is a broom in the closet, if you want to get him down,” Mr. Stark suggested with a shrug.

Rhodes opened his helmet and turned to the billionaire.

“Tony! I’m serious. The kid is _on_ _the ceiling._ ”

“Well, he is _Spider-_ Man,” Mr. Stark offered as an explanation.

 “I thought that was because of his web shooters,” the colonel said.

“Kid is part spider,” the other man answered nonchalantly as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Sticky fingers.”

Rhodes shook his head unbelievingly and turned back to Peter.

“Peter, come down. I’m pretty sure sticking to the ceiling is against the rules of kick-boxing,” he told the teenager.

“I’m pretty sure fighting in an armored, robotic suit with an AI is against the rules, too.” Peter retorted. If Peter was honest with himself, he was just exhausted and he wanted to catch a break. It had been a long day already – a long week really. Happy had picked him up in the morning and brought him to the compound for his first training. Colonel Rhodes had been shocked about how young Peter looked and first refused to train Peter. He had vehemently protested about preparing a boy to fight Hydra, but after Mr. Stark had a one hour long discussion with the army man, Rhodes had reluctantly agreed to at least test Peter’s abilities.

In the beginning Colonel Rhodes had tried to fight him without a suit, but quickly realized that he didn’t stand a chance against the enhanced teenager. He put on his suit, again holding back at first. But after Peter had destroyed the first suit much to the surprise of everybody, including Peter, the colonel didn’t restrain himself anymore.

It’s been a few hours and Peter had to admit, that he was exhausted. Since he had been bitten by the spider, he had barely felt his muscles aching, but he could feel their protest now. While Colonel Rhodes had gone easy on him the first hour, the past three hours took everything out of Peter.

Mr. Stark suddenly shut his laptop close and stood up, stretching his back.

“It’s afternoon already and I have promised Spider-Boy, that he can return to his teenage activities in New York for the rest of the weekend,” the man explained, “Let’s end this for now. Pete, you want to stay for dinner, or should I ask Happy to bring you home?”

Peter breathed out in relief. With an elegant flip Peter landed in front of Mr. Stark. Peter was not only exhausted, but also awfully hungry. Except for a piece of pizza which he had sneaked from the kitchen at his work, he hadn’t eaten anything in… well, in almost two days. Somewhere in the back of his mind Peter knew that something was very wrong about that, but he tried not to think about it too much.

 “Dinner!” Peter exclaimed enthusiastically, then blushed, “Uh. Sorry. I mean, if it’s no trouble, I would like to stay for dinner.”

Mr. Stark smirked. “Dinner it is then. Honeybear, you wanted to cook?”

Rhodes rolled his eyes and stepped out of his suit. “I never said that, but I refuse to eat take-outs for the rest of the weekend. So, unless the spiderling here also has the secret ability to cook, I guess, it’s up to me.”

“I can make some decent Mac’n’cheese…” Peter offered, but Mr. Stark stopped him by putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Nuh uh. Let the grown-ups cook and you can take a shower. You are soaked in sweat and I refuse to eat with somebody who smells like the gym in my former college dorm.”

Peter blushed in embarrassment wondering if he was really smelly. He tried smell himself, but he couldn't really judge how he smelled.

Mr. Stark started grinning, but his voice grew softer. “Are you trying to smell yourself? Kiddo, I was joking. Go take a shower, we will take care of the food. There should be some clothes you can change into in the cupboard in the bathroom.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter took a long shower. Of course, Mr. Stark didn’t have a normal shower, not even in the gym part of the compound. It was a luxurious shower and it would probably take an hour to try out all the different settings of lightening, shower heads, aromas. The shower felt heavenly, but Peter couldn’t stop himself from also getting a bit angry. Mr. Stark had a freaking shower, which probably cost more than the his and May’s rent for a month. Nonetheless he tried to enjoy it.

He quickly dried himself off and found some comfortable clothes in a cupboard. Peter picked out some sweatpants and an old MIT sweatshirt. Just as he wanted to leave the gym’s changing room, he realized that he could hear Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes talking. It was not like Peter wanted to eavesdrop, but when he heard his name, he couldn’t stop himself. Peter blamed his enhanced hearing. Still, he felt a bit guilty.

“Parker is good.” Colonel Rhodes was saying. Peter could also hear something frying. Peter could smell steak. “His reflexes are the best I have ever seen.”

“Well, he is enhanced.” Mr. Stark explained apparently less impressed than Rhodes.

“Yes, I’m aware. He destroyed one of the freaking suits.” Colonel Rhodes said back. “His enhancements are amazing. But there is something more about him. I mean it’s obvious that he is untrained, but whatever I thought him today, he picked it up in mere minutes. The kid is smart.”

Mr. Stark scoffed and then paused. For a second Peter thought that Mr. Stark would deny it and tell Colonel Rhodes, that Peter wasn’t that smart.

“You have no idea. The kid is a genius,” Mr. Stark said instead.

Peter felt his face getting hot. Was that what the billionaire thought about him? The probably smartest man on the planet thought that Peter was… a genius?

“What do you mean, Tony?” Colonel Rhodes was now wondering.

“I mean what I’m saying. The kid is smart. Maybe smarter than I was his age,” Mr. Stark explained. There was something in his voice, which Peter couldn’t really define. Peter gulped. Was it pride?

“Are you serious? You were studying at MIT, when you were his age,” Colonel Rhodes argued.

“Yeah, but I also had a narcissistic father, who signed me up for science classes since the day I could talk,” Mr. Stark pointed out, “The kid reduced single handedly the crime rate in Queens by fifty percent. And he is acing all his classes. I would say that is more impressive than having been pushed into attending college by your billionaire father.”

“He is a mini-you,” Colonel Rhodes concluded. 

Again Mr. Stark scoffed.

“He is not. He is better than me.”

Suddenly the only noise Peter could hear was his blood rushing in his veins. Mr. Stark’s and Colonel Rhodes’ voices got tuned out. His face got hot. Suddenly Peter felt nervous. How could Mr. Stark think that Peter was better than him? No way Peter was in any aspect better than Iron Man. The Man, who had saved earth by pushing a nuclear bomb into space. Peter suddenly feared disappointing the man. But he also had this warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

Mr. Stark thought he was good.

 

* * *

 

 

As bad as his and May’s situation was, Peter quickly found that he had also gotten used to it. The weeks passed quickly. Every time he felt like he couldn’t deal with their situation, Peter just remembered what Mr. Stark had said after his first training. That he believed that Peter was smart, even better than Iron Man. Every time Peter remembered Mr. Stark’s words; Peter felt his confidence rise. He could deal with anything. He really could.

He quickly got used to working in the afternoons, helping May around their tiny apartment as she still couldn’t do much with her broken arm. After her arm had healed, she had started her chemotherapy. It was going well. She was dealing well with the side effects, went to several meetings supporting cancer patients.

School was also going extremely well. Peter found himself being more motivated in his classes. Mr. Stark believed Peter was a genius and Peter somehow felt, that he couldn’t disappoint the man by getting bad grades.

Peter was getting better at the training with Mr.Rhodes (Mr. Rhodes had made him drop the Colonel, but there was no way Peter would call him Rhodey). Peter was always looking forward to the weekends. Since the training Peter felt an improvement in all his fights as Spider-Man. He got less hurt and got more efficient. Mr. Stark was still searching for the new Hydra base, it would probably take them a few more weeks before Peter would have to fight the Hydra agents.

Peter didn’t mind skipping a few meals, too. He even got used to that. He had probably lost some weight, but he found that he was getting less frequently hungry. He still hadn’t gotten a new backpack, but even Flash had gotten bored of making comments about that.

It was all working out, Peter thought. He could hold it all together. Until of course he couldn’t.

 

“Peter, can you stay after class?”, Mrs. Warren said as Peter’s class was putting their physic’s books into their bags. Ned gave Peter a slightly worried glance, while the rest of the class looked more curious.

“Finally, somebody figured out that you have been cheating and lying the whole time, huh Penis?”, Flash hissed into Peter’s ear as he passed his table.

“What’s going on?” Ned wanted to know, but Peter just shook his head.

“Nothing. It’s fine.” Peter briefly said to Ned.

The rest class left, only Peter and Ned were still in the classroom.

“I would like to talk to Mr. Parker alone, Mr. Leeds,” the physic teacher told Ned as the other boy had been still been standing behind Peter curiously. Ned blushed, muttered an apology and quickly scrambled out of the classroom as well.

Mrs. Warren only started after Ned had closed the classroom door.

“Peter,” she said, “I talked with the principal about reducing the price for the field trip for you. I have good news. Considering your situation, the school will take over fifty percent of the costs.”

A few weeks ago, Mrs. Warren had announced that the class was going to a one week long field trip. They had several destinations planned, including the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. One girl had a father working there and they would even get a private tour. The field trip was going to be expensive. But all parents had agreed that it was fine during the parent-teacher conference. Of course, all parents didn’t include May. She had felt sick after her chemo that evening and she had skipped the meeting.

The whole class had been awfully enthusiastic about the field trip, planning more and more things they could do. Peter on the other hand had to worry about the price. After a long inner struggle, he had confessed his problem to Mrs. Warren, who was supervising the field trip. She was the second person after drug dealer Bobby Peter had told about May’s situation.

“Fifty percent?” Peter wanted to confirm, trying to not show his disappointment as he quickly crunched the numbers.

“Yes,” Mrs. Warren said smilingly. “You pay fifty percent; the school will cover the rest. Does that sound good to you?”

It took Peter a moment to answer, “Is there an alternative? Do I have to go?”

“Peter, you have to pay half the price. That's really not that much. Surely, your situation can’t be that bad…”, Mrs. Warren agued, but Peter saw that she regretted her words immediately. Mrs. Warren glanced at him up and down as if she saw him for the first time. She frowned at the absence of a school bag.

“I’m so sorry Peter. I wasn’t very tactful.”, she quickly added. The apologatic tone in her voice, only made Peter feel embarressed. She felt sorry for him and that was the last thing Peter wanted. That's why he didn't talk to anybody about his situation, not even Ned. It had been easy to avoid telling Ned anything.  Since Ned had housearrest, the other boy didn't wonder too much about what Peter was doing outside from school.

“You don’t have to go,” Mrs. Warren explained after a pause, “But you can’t skip school either. You will have to join another class.”

She sighed after some thinking. “Every class is that week on field trips, except for the senior year, because they have to prepare exams. You can join them.”

Peter nodded, “That’s fine with me.”

Mrs. Warren smiled sadly at him. “You are very brave, Peter. If you need to talk to anybody, you can always come to me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter was disappointed. He would have wanted to go on the field trip, spent time with Ned and MJ and maybe escape a bit from his busy routine. He hated explaining to Ned, that he wasn’t going. His friend was looking at him with big, worried eyes. But instead of admitting that he had financial issues, he had lied and told Ned that he had more important things to do. He had lied to his friend’s face and told him that he was too busy being Spider-Man and an almost Avenger.

But even that hadn’t been the worst part of his day. As soon as he entered their apartment, Peter knew that something else was wrong. May was sitting at the kitchen table. She was wearing comfortable clothes and a colorful headscarf wrapped around her bold head. She had shaved her hair in her first week of chemotherapy, claiming it was better to shave the hair off in dignity, than watch it fall out. Papers were scattered on the table and some even on the floor as the table was seemingly too small. There was worry in May’s expression and she hadn’t even noticed, when Peter entered.

“Hey May,” Peter greeted his aunt. Surprised she looked up. Her worried face suddenly turned sad, when she saw Peter.

“Oh, honey. I didn’t hear you come in,” she said.

“What’s this about?” Peter asked. He looked at a paper in front of May. She had scribbled down some numbers. Peter immediately recognized the numbers. Peter’s hourly wage, May’s sparse savings, the costs of their rent. It was about their income and expenses.

“I…” May started and then stopped as if her voice got stuck. There was a slight tremble in her hands.

“Why don’t you sit down, Pete?” She whispered and Peter’s stomach dropped. The last time she had asked him to sit down, she had told him about her cancer. Reluctantly he slumped down the foldable chair opposite of her, feeling how his own hands begun to tremble.

“I talked to my doctor today, honey,” she started again and paused for a second. Peter’s eyes widened in fear of the worst.

“It was good, Peter.”, she quickly added, after she saw Peter’s worried face. She took his hands in his, both calmed down as their hands touched. “The chemotherapy is working very well. He said that the cancer is shrinking more than expected.”

“But that are great news!” Peter said, squeezing May’s hands, “You seem to be worried. Is it money again? May, we are doing good.”

“The doctor said the best approach now for my treatment would be to get operated. In a few weeks anyway,” May continued.

Peter stood up from his chair. “But that’s great! It’s operable. May, this is good.”

“I know. It’s good. Very good even. But…” She hesitated. Big brown eyes met Peter’s own.

“My insurance doesn’t cover the whole operation. I phoned with them today and they said that at this point they would only pay for ninety percent of the costs,” May finally said.

“We can cover ten percent,” Peter claimed without thinking twice, “Ten percent. That can’t be much. We will manage”

May squeezed his hand again. “I talked to the hospital. They would let us pay it in rates. I talked to the people in my support group…”

“And?” Peter urged her to continue as May was hesitating again with her explanations.

“I went over the numbers a few times.  At this point we wouldn’t be able to pay for the operation. But the social worker in my support group has…” May stopped again, Peter saw her grow embarrassed.

“When we wouldn’t have to pay rent, we could manage, Pete,” she explained hastily, “It would only be for a few weeks. Only until I have a paying job again and if everything goes well, it might be sooner than we think.”

“What do you me by not paying rent?” Peter asked hesitantly.

“The social worker from my support group also works at a women’s shelter. She talked about our situation to the organization there and she told me that they would have room for us.” May finally completed her explanation, her voice was fearful as if she expected Peter to grow angry.

Peter suddenly felt numb. “I’m a man, May. I can’t live in a women’s shelter.”, Peter said, not really knowing what else to respond.

“You are a child, Peter. My child. Mother’s can take their children with them to the home of course.”

“Aren’t women’s shelter for abused women? You aren’t abused,” Peter continued to argue. His voice sounded like a stranger’s one to him. Somehow, he felt numb. He knew that he should feel something. Anger, sadness. He shouldn’t just accept what was happening, that life just kept shoving him around. But Peter felt resigned. He remembered that he had laughed so much, when Ben had first joked about the so-called Parker luck. Now, the teenager wished that he could travel back in time and punch that young Peter, who had laughed so whole-heartedly about something that kept screwing his life over. Something which seemed always to overpower him, no matter how hard he worked, how smart he was, how much good he did.

“It is mainly for women who had experienced violence, Peter. But not only. That’s why the social worker had talked to them about our situation. They would welcome us,” May answered.

Peter closed his eyes for second before standing up from his chair. “When do we move?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sit down somewhere comfortable. Have some paper tissues and a pillow to hug close by. 
> 
> I don't recommend reading this chapter in public places such as your school, uni, the metro, buses. Your bed is a much better place.

The best part about living in the women’s shelter were the people. Everybody was nice to each other. There were kind pats on his shoulder, encouraging smiles and soft praises. Peter also saw that May enjoyed the support of the other women there, but that she also took the role of somebody the women liked to confide in.

“How are you?” is probably one of the most asked question in the world, but for the first time Peter saw people _really_ ask that question. They didn’t ask out of politeness, but out of real concern. They took their time to hear each other out, dropping whatever they were doing or stopped wherever they were rushing, just to hear the other person out. It was nice, a contrast, a lonely island of kindness in a city that otherwise valued speed and anonymity.

May and Peter shared a small room, which really wasn’t too bad either. It was small, but it didn’t matter since they had found a storage for most of their belongings. There was a bunk bed, a cupboard and a small table. May had bought a small lamp, for when Peter needed to homework and a few additional pillows and fairy lights to make the room feel a bit homier.

Another thing Peter appreciated at the women’s shelter was the food. An old lady from the neighborhood volunteered in the kitchen of the women’s shelter. She was a retired cook and with a few women living in the shelter she prepared a warm meal two times a day. It was tasty and healthy food (a combination Peter rarely ever had in his life). The cook also always prepared some additional food for Peter, claiming that he was far too thin. At first Peter had been surprised to find a lunch box in his makeshift school bag, but quickly he got used to it and even got excited about the lunch box even hours before the school break.

The best thing were the people. The worst thing were the people.

Peter genuinely liked the women in the shelter. Even if some had eyed him at first suspiciously -Peter was the closest thing to a man in the shelter- they had quickly accepted him. That was what also made life in the shelter so hard. If it wasn’t for his enhanced senses, the whole experience of living in a women’s shelter wouldn’t have been that bad. But, well, there was his Parker luck again.

The people were wearing a mask of confidence and hope. It was probably part of recovery to act recovered. But Peter knew it was an act. During the day Peter saw smiles and hopeful words, but when the lights turned off and he was lying in the upper bunk of his and May’s bed, he could hear something different. He could hear women cry in bathrooms, little children having nightmares and asking about daddies, whispered phone calls to worried friends and relatives, telling them that they just couldn’t deal with it anymore.

Peter was by no way sheltered from all the cruelties life could offer. Not only was Peter Parker continuously stumbling into tragedies, but Spider-Man faced the city’s unaltered ugliness on daily basis. Still, it was one thing to prevent violence and catch criminals, but it was another to listen about the chilling horrors the women had been forced to live through. He actively tried not to listen, but that wasn’t always easy.

“Honey, what are you doing?” It was already late. Peter had returned from his job as a delivery guy.  He was screwing on his headphones under the small lamp on their table.

“I’m building a noise canceller into my headphones,” he briefly explained. After listening all the noises in the shelter for almost three weeks now, Peter had decided that it had been enough. He couldn’t block the noises out with his current headphones and he certainly couldn’t afford higher quality ones, but he could design better ones himself.

Curiously May looked at his sketch and then at his materials.

“Where did you get all this stuff?” she wanted to know. She picked up a cable and eyed it suspiciously.

“Dumpster around the corner,” Peter answered still immersed into his work.

“What’s that?” May continued asking. She poked the web material Peter had put in a bowl and frowned when she noticed the stickiness. The properties of his webs were still after two years of using them surprising to Peter. He only needed to alternate the formula a tiny bit to create a material with amazing sound insulating properties.

“For sound insulation,” Peter told her. She poked the webs a few more times, eyeing his work curiously. Then Peter could feel her suddenly stiffen as if she had just remembered something uncomfortable.

She went her hand through Peter’s thick hair, playing with a curl, before starting to speak again.

“You haven’t told Ned that I’m sick.”, she stated.  Surprised the screwdriver slipped out of Peter’s hand. She had caught him off guard by changing the topic so abruptly. A few weeks ago, Peter had told May that he would tell Ned about the cancer. He had almost told him, but then, somehow, he hadn’t.

“I…” Peter stuttered but May didn’t let Peter explain. She continued talking, her hand still softly caressing Peter’s curls.

“I called Mrs. Leeds today. She didn’t know anything. You know her, she started interrogating Ned on the spot and Ned was as surprised as she was.”

May’s hand went from his hair to Peter’s cheek gently turning Peter’s face toward her. Peter’s stomach turned. Ned knew. Peter glanced at his phone on the table, wondering why Ned hadn’t written him anything before he remembered that Ned still had his phone confiscated by his mom.

“I thought we agreed that you had to tell people. If nobody knows about your problems, nobody can help you, Pete.” May said strictly, but somehow in the same time soft.

“You haven’t even told your best friend. It’s been weeks,” May added now in an accusing tone, “One thing I have learned in all those support groups is that you have to talk to people about your problems and feelings.”

“I’m sorry, May,” Peter tried to apologize, “It’s just so hard.”

“I know, honey. I know. But you have to try. Alright?”

Peter nodded and May smiled.

“How much else have you told Mrs. Leeds. Does she know, where we live?” Peter then wondered.

 May shook her head and sat down on her bed, which was only few steps away from the table.

“She already thinks I’m a bad parent. I just couldn’t tell her…” May muttered obviously aware of the contradiction between her own actions and what she was telling Peter to do. Talking to people. Peter would have almost scoffed, if May hadn’t looked so vulnerable.

“This doesn’t make you a bad parent, May. This is not your fault,” Peter told May.

“You are a good kid, Pete,” she said, but Peter shook his head.

“If I’m a good kid, than that’s only because you are a great parent,” he claimed assuredly.

“How great of a parent can I be, if my kid is not even telling me that he is going to skip a field trip,” May suddenly said again accusingly, “Mrs. Leeds told me about the field trip next week. She told me you weren’t going. Pete, what’s going on?”

Peter turned back to his headphone and picked up the screwdriver.

“The fieldtrip is too expensive,” Peter simply answered.

“Peter, we said we are not going to comprise on your education. We would have managed somehow…”

“No. We wouldn’t have,” Peter stated in a matter of fact, “And it’s just a stupid field trip. It’s not like I’m missing something relevant.”

May seemed to want to keep arguing, but she pressed her lips together. She was readjusting the knot which kept her headscarf wrapped around her head. Fumbling with the headscarf was a nervous habit she had picked up a few days after they had started living in the shelter.

“There is a reason I called Mrs. Leeds, Peter,” May finally said her voice had grown more determined and heavier again.

Peter turned to his aunt. The screwdriver was clenched in his fists. Whenever May spoke in that tone good news didn’t follow.

“When I get operated, I will have to stay in the hospital for maybe one or two weeks,” she explained slowly.

“Yeah. I know,” Peter said with a nod.

“You will have to stay with somebody. I can’t leave you alone,” the woman informed him.

Peter rolled his eyes in annoyance. “May, I’m fifteen. I can survive on my own for two weeks.”

But May just shook her head. “I trust that you would manage. But I can’t let that happen, Pete. And it’s not only up to me anymore. The CPS worker approached me today and told me I would have to find a solution for when I’m in the hospital. You can’t stay here at the woman’s shelter on your own.”

Peter heart skipped a beat, when he heard the abbreviation CPS. This was developing in a dangerous direction.

“So, I’m going to stay with Ned?” Peter asked hopefully, but he already knew the answer. May wouldn’t have approached this topic so cautiously, if the solution would have been such an easy one.

“Mrs. Leeds is still angry about the party. She still thinks it’s your fault. She called me naïve, when I tried to explain that you haven’t even been on the party. I’m sorry,” she told Peter.

Peter gulped painfully. His mouth felt dry. “You have told her that we don’t really have anybody else to ask?”

“I tried make it clear to her, but I don’t think she understood. She doesn’t understand what that means for us. For you.” his aunt explained.

“What _does_ it mean?” Peter wanted to know.

May’s eyes looked at him sadly. She didn’t answer him, but instead asked, “Do you have anybody else we could ask? What about MJ?”

Peter blushed. “We aren’t that close. We never hang out after school.”

“What about anybody else in your decathlon team? What were their names? Betty? Abe? Charles?” May questioned further.

Peter just shook his head in embarrassment. He had never been good in making friends.

“What happens now, May?” Peter inquired to know.

“We… you… would spend those weeks in a group home. That’s what the CPS worker offered.”, she told him. When she saw his eyes widen, she quickly added, “It wouldn’t be too different from this place. It’s also very temporary. Only two weeks, max.”

For a second Peter thought that he was going to be sick. He didn’t want to go to a group home.

He wanted to jump from his chair and shout. Shout at May for being sick, shout at Mrs. Leeds for being so uncaring, shout at Ned for not telling his mum the truth about the party, shout at the CPS worker for meddling with their lives, shout at Mr. Stark for being a billionaire, while he and May couldn’t even afford to rent an apartment, shout at the social workers for not letting him stay at the women’s shelter.

Shout at Ben for having left them.

But Peter doesn’t shout. He just turned back to his headphones and continued putting them together.

“It’s okay,” Peter finally said to May in a level tone.

“The home would be in Queens,” May elaborated, her nervousness made her voice a pitch higher, “Close to your high-school even. So that would be good. Just two weeks at most, I promise.”

“I said it’s okay,” Peter repeated. “I will go the group home then.”

From the corner of his eyes Peter saw May nod. She stood up again and tried to caress his hair, but this time Pete flinched away. May accepted Peter’s silent rejection wordlessly and left the room with her toilet bag. When she returned from the common bathroom, she lay down under her heavy blanket facing the wall.

“Good night,” she said.

“Good night,” he answered.

Peter pretended not to hear May cry that night, while May pretended not to notice the silent teardrops that fell on the table, while her boy kept working throughout the whole night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Every comment and kudo makes me happy. 
> 
> I'm sorry for anybody who is already eagerly awaiting Tony to go full Irondad and save our Spider-Baby. But everything is still going downhill and will take some time for Peter to really hit rock bottom. No, the story is not there yet, I'm sorry.
> 
> But I guess I'm not spoiling anything if I tell you that this is very much an Irondad story and to all the hurt comfort will follow.
> 
> So, I'm continuing to write. The next chapter will follow soon too.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments make me very happy. Even though I probably don't deserve that as I'm making my readers more sad than happy...

 

The worst hours in the shelter, where between eleven and two o’clock at night. At eleven in the evening they usually locked the doors of the shelter. The few underage girls in the shelter were told to go to their rooms. The kitchens got locked up and so were the showers because some women had complained about being disturbed by people showering in the middle of the night. The hallway’s lights got dimmed and any music in the house turned off.

The shelter got quiet. Quiet in one way, but very loud in another. Restless minds tried to sleep, but finding rest was a long battle for anybody in the shelter. Peter was no exception. He tried to block the noises out, while simultaneously also trying to ignore the dark thoughts which popped up in his mind. Tonight he didn’t even try to sleep. He pretended to work on the headphones, but really, he was only screwing on it mindlessly.

Only around two o’clock, when people had eventually fallen asleep and May’s breathe had also evened, Peter calmed down, too. Finally, he could focus again and make progress on his work. It was the only peaceful moment of his day.

It was around three, when he saw his phone display light up and it was silently vibrating. Somebody was calling him. Peter didn’t recognize the number, but he guessed that it was Ned, who had probably somehow managed to get access a mobile phone.  Peter considered picking up for a second, but he really wasn’t ready to explain himself to Ned yet. With a sigh he turned the phone around so that the shining display was facing the table. It was continuing to vibrate for one more minute, before it got completely quiet again in the room.

Peter was already focused on his work again, when suddenly his phone started ringing. He had put it in silent mood, how was it ringing? Startled he took the phone and tried to turn it off. But even though he pressed the off button several times, the phone kept ringing. Peter saw May stir behind him, but not yet waking up. He considered taking out the battery from the phone. But what if it wasn’t Ned calling? Peter frowned as he realized that his phone probably got hacked. That’s why he couldn’t turn it off, decline the call or silence it.

Quickly, Peter rushed out of the room before the ringing woke May up.

“Hello,” he whispered carefully into the phone after he had closed the door to their room and picked up the call.

“Good morning, Spider-Man,” a cheerful voice greeted him. It was Mr. Stark.

Peter frowned. Mr. Stark had never called him personally. It was always Happy, who called. But what confused Peter was that he hadn’t recognized Mr. Stark’s number. Where was he calling from? Did he have several numbers?

“Did you hack my phone?” Peter questioned, his irritation overtaking his usual politeness.

“Yeah, I did. But I didn’t read any of your messages, if that worries you. Your messages to your secret girlfriends and boyfriends are not really interesting. I’ve been a teenager once too - a long time ago. As exciting as you think your secrets are, they are not to us real grown-ups,” Mr. Stark told him in a slightly mocking tone, then he added a bit more serious, “I just needed you to wake up and pick up your phone.”

“Why isn’t Happy calling? What going on? Is it an emergency?” Peter wanted to know growing slightly worried.

“Happy refused to wake you up in the middle of the night. He gets grumpy, when he doesn’t get enough sleep. Well, even grumpier than usual, that is,” Mr. Stark of course choose to only answer the at least important question and continued rambling, “Really, that man only becomes bearable after lunch time.”

“Mr. Stark, it’s past three. Please, what is this about? Are you okay?” Peter asked. If he had been tired before, his nervousness had him on high alert now.

“I have found the Hydra base. Happy is picking you up at five to bring you to the airport,” the older man finally informed him, “We will have to act fast before they realize we are coming. I’ve just finished talking to the UN and we got permission to attack.”

“Wait airport? UN? Mr. Stark, where is the Hydra base?”  Peter whispered into the phone, looking up and down the hallway. Nobody was there, the shelter’s inhabitant were all sleeping.

“Poland, close to the White Russian border. We are lucky that it is not yet in White Russia. Otherwise the UN wouldn’t have let us go.”

“Wait Poland? Poland like in Europe?” Peter asked exasperated.

“Yes, in Europe. I wasn’t aware that there is another Poland.” Mr. Stark answered teasingly.

 “Try to get some more sleep, Pete,” The man then added softly but in the same time commanding, “It’s going to be a long day.”

“Wait! Mr. Stark, I have school tomorrow! I can’t go,” the teenager protested, but immediately grew embarrassed. Peter could practically hear his mentor roll his eyes.

“They can’t even teach you where Poland is. I don’t see why you are even bothering to go to high-school,” Mr. Stark said in a mocking voice again.

“I’m serious, Mr. Stark. I can’t just skip school,” Peter insisted, “Can’t we go on the weekend? It’s just one more day.”

“Nope. The sooner the better. It’s only a matter of time until somebody in the UN slips up and Hydra learns about our plans,” the billionaire explained, “Also next week you are going to a field trip. School days before school trips are always a waste of time anyway.”

Peter pressed his lips together. Maybe not going to school today would be better. Everybody had been talking about the trip for days. Mrs. Warren had promised to reserve an hour of tomorrow’s physics class for some last second planning.

“You didn’t even tell me, Pete. Your class is going to the Kennedy Space Centre. I know the director of the place. We lived in the same dorm in college. I could have arranged a rocket launch on the day your class visits,” Mr. Stark told him.

Peter couldn’t suppress a scoff. God, what was his life? Peter knew the most powerful man in the world personally. Yet, he couldn’t even afford to go to a high-school field trip. He couldn’t tell Mr. Stark that he wasn’t going. He suddenly felt embarrassed about it, even more than when he had to tell his class that he wasn’t coming. It was even more embarrassing than when Flash kept making fun about him for not going. Mr. Stark wouldn’t understand. Peter worked so hard, but still he was nothing more than a kid from Queens living in a shelter. A charity case, really.

 “Happy, is going to pick you up in two hours. He will talk to your school, no worries. We will be back by Sunday at latest. Wouldn’t want you to miss your field trip,” Mr. Stark elaborated.

“What am I going to tell May?”

“You will have to figure that out on your own. Now, let’s end this here. It’s past your bedtime, kiddo. See you in Poland.”

“Wait, Mr. Stark,” Peter still had things to clarify, but Mr. Stark didn’t let him question anything.

“Good night, kiddo,” the man said before hanging up the phone.

With a sigh, Peter put his phone back in his pocket. Of course, he could never argue with the billionaire. That man always got what he wanted. ‘No’ wasn’t in that man’s vocabulary. At least, when he was at the receiving end of the words.

When he opened the door to his and May’s room, May was sitting on the bed. With tired eyes she was looking at Peter.

“Who called you?” she asked. He sleepy voice was harsh contrasts to Mr. Stark’s rushed rambles.

“That was… that was Mr. Stark. He going to this science convention and somebody cancelled in the last moment. They have a free place. He is inviting me to come.”, Peter answered trying  not to show his distress.

“Tony Stark called you? He actually called you? In the middle of the night? About a science convention?” May frowned.

“I… He forgot the time. He has a screwed-up sleep schedule,” Peter tried to excuse his mentor, but May just eyed him suspiciously.

“Peter, he can’t just call you whenever he wants. You are a child. An unpaid intern. That’s not alright,” May argued and Peter grimaced. A middle-aged man calling a fifteen years old kid in the middle of the night did sound bad.

“When is the convention?” May wanted to know further.

“Happy is picking me up in two hours. I will be back on Sunday,” Peter said. May’s expression turned from irritated to angry.

“And I don’t get a say in that?” his aunt complained. She stood up from her bed and walked towards Peter.

“You have school tomorrow. You are not going,” she then decided. Her voice sounded definitive. Peter would have liked to agree but destroying a Hydra base was probably more important than school.

“They are just going to talk about the field trip for the whole day. Please May,” Peter begged her. When he mentioned the field trip, May’s expression first turned soft, then guilty. Peter hated himself in that moment for coercing May into agreeing by guilt tripping her.

“I don’t trust that man. What kind of pervert calls a kid in the middle of the night?”

Peter knew that his face turned red, “It’s nothing like that, really May. Mr. Stark is just a bit eccentric. He is Iron Man. He saved the freaking city from an atomic bomb. You can trust him. I trust him”

“What about your work, Peter?” May asked.

“I can work double shifts next week,” Peter explained.

May studied him for a few more seconds before slowly nodding. “Alright honey. Why don’t you try to get one more hour of sleep? I will set an alarm.”

 

* * *

 

 

They were sitting in a run-down office building in some Polish small town. Mr. Stark’s tech seemed very much displaced in the cramped room that looked like the news of the end of the Soviet Union had never reached it. Mr. Stark and Mr. Rhodes aside, Peter only recognized Ms. Romanoff. But there were also a handful of SHIELD agents in the room. They talked about the operation, pointed at different things on a hologram of the Hydra base and threw code names around. If Peter would have paid attention, he probably would have managed to follow the conversation, but in that moment Peter just felt overwhelmed. He hadn’t slept that night and even on the five-hour flight, Peter hadn’t found rest. 

He was worried. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he screwed it up? What if he made Mr. Stark angry? What if somebody got hurt?

The last fight Mr. Stark had taken him too had been the one in Germany. But that had been fairly easy. The only instruction Mr. Stark had given him was to take Captain’s shield.

As misplaced as the Stark technology looked, Peter felt even more displaced than the hight-tech computers.

“Parker, you following?” Mr. Rhodes asked him, pulling Peter out of his thoughts. Everybody’s attention suddenly turned to the teenager. Not answering Mr. Rhodes’ question was answer enough for everybody. Unhappy faces eyes him distrustfully.

“Somebody get him a coffee,” Mr. Stark barked harshly, “Pay attention, Parker.”

One of the agents filled up a cup with filter-coffee and placed it in front of Peter. Peter wanted to protest and say that he actually didn’t drink coffee, not yet anyway, but Mr. Stark’s glare made him take a sip from the bitter liquid. Peter tried not to grimace as he gulped the coffee down.

“I’m not sure if we should proceed,” one of the agents said hesitantly, “clearly the kid is unprepared. We aren’t sending a scared child into a battle.”

“He is not unprepared,” Mr. Stark defended his protégé, “It’s been a short night for him, but he will do fine.”

“We can go in without him,” Ms. Romanoff proposed, but Mr. Stark immediately shook his head.

“Like last time, Nat? You liked getting shot at that much?” Mr. Stark retorted. “The kid is going to do fine. He is the only one standing a chance against invisible Hydra agents.”

“He’s a child,” another agent protested.

“He is not a child.” Mr. Stark argued. “He is a teenage vigilantly, who can lift a truck with one arm. _And_ he can probably outsmart anybody in this room.”

“Even you?” Ms. Romanoff asked with a smirk.

Mr. Stark paused for a moment and looked at Peter.

“Maybe,” the man admitted. Ms. Romanoff also turned her gaze back at Peter and watched him curiously as if she was trying to find what Mr. Stark was seeing in him.

“Rhodes,” one of the agents said, “you trained him. What do you think? Is he ready?”

“Yes,” the colonel answered, “yes, I think he is ready for this.”

The SHIELD agent, who probably was in charge, gave a firm nod.

“Alright. Parker, pay attention. We are going through the plan as many times as you need. But I prefer that to be sooner than later.”

 

* * *

 

 

They went through the plan three more times, before everybody in the room was convinced that Peter had memorized every detail of their plan.

The strategy was relatively simple. First an insane number of drones was going to attack the base, exhausting their enemies’ resources. Then, two attacks would follow. The first one was lead by Ms. Romanoff. They served more as a distraction, while Mr. Rhodes, Mr. Stark and Peter would attack from another side, trying to get into the facility. Their aim was to access any computer in the base and gather any information they could find inside of the building, before blowing it up. As far as Peter understood, Mr. Stark and Mr. Rhodes priority was to protect Peter, while Peter was the front man, the only one who actually didn’t go blind into the battle.

“Alright,” the SHIELD agent decided, “I think the plan is clear to everyone. We will take short break now. There some food and water in the other room. We will gather in the parking garage in half an hour.”

Everybody was leaving the room, but when Peter reached the door, Mr. Stark grabbed his shoulder. Mr. Rhodes and Ms. Romanoff gave them a curios glance, but Mr. Stark just nodded, indicating to them, that he wanted to talk to Peter alone.

After the room was empty, Mr. Stark started talking.

“It’s going to be fine,” Mr. Stark said in an unusually gentle voice, “Rhodey wouldn’t let you fight, if he wouldn’t think you are ready.”

“Yeah, I know…” Peter muttered, but his mentor just shook his head and squeezed Peter’s shoulder harder.

“No, I don’ think you know. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. If this goes wrong, I will get you out of there even before your spider-sense realizes what is happening.”

Peter just nodded.

“It’s going to go fine,” the man repeated. “You trust me, right?”

When Peter didn’t answer, Mr. Stark frowned. Peter trusted Mr. Stark, didn’t he?

“Kid, do you trust me?” Mr. Stark asked a second time, but this time there was some dark concern in his voice as if the whole mission only depended on that.

“Yeah. Yeah. I do,” Peter quickly replied, before the man started to grow even more worried.

“Good,” the man said now satisfied, visibly relaxing, “Remember, I wouldn’t throw my Spider-Kid into deep ocean water without putting some swimmies on him first. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Yeah. I know. I know. But…” Peter blushed and then lamely continued Mr. Stark metaphor, “I can swim. I mean, you don’t have to worry, Mr. Stark. Spiders are good swimmers. In Australia there is even a spider that can like catch fish. It’s super amazing actually. It uses vibrations on the water to navigate and find its prey.” Peter knew that he was rambling because he was trying to hide his own nervousness. But it seemingly worked as Mr. Stark genuinely smiled at him.

“I know,” Mr. Stark said, “The spider species had been discovered two years ago. I’ve been in the World Science Festival in Australia, where they presented the spider. Back then, thanks to some vigilantly on youtube, I had just gotten very interested in spiders.”

“Oh, you’ve seen the spider? At the Festival in Brisbane? I’ve never been to a World Science Festival, not even the one in New York. But I would really like to go,” Peter told the man and for a second he felt excited that Mr. Stark shared his interest for the Science Festival. The older man put his hand on the small of his back and gently guided him towards the door.

“You know what, Pete? You do a good job today and I’m taking you to the next World Science Festival,” he suggested, “You, me and a million other scientists, which I will try to avoid. Does that sound good to you?”

“Really?” Peter asked his eyes lightening up.

“Yeah, really, kid. Now, let’s get some food in you, before the breaks ends. Happy had told me that you didn’t have anything on the plane on the way here.”

Peter nodded, suddenly feeling a bit lighter. The man seemed to trust the teenager. Peter would make sure that the mission went right.  Just when they were about to exist the improvised conference room, Peter though stopped. A thought popped up in his head and he gulped.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, kid?”

“When all this is over,” the teenager said slowly, “I need to talk to you about something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this story is slow. Three thousand words and only two minor scenes. I enjoy reading slow-burn stories myself, but maybe I'm taking it too far.  
> Anyway, I hope you will stick to the story. It's still going to be a looong ride.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos and comments.
> 
> I guess enjoy? the next chapter.

Peter and Mr. Rhodes entered the basement of the Hydra facility. Both of them stopped in horror, when they saw what apparently Hydra’s lab was.

It had been an almost hour-long fight before they had finally entered the base. Peter was beyond exhausted. His spider-sense just kept ringing loudly and adrenalin was rushing through his veins. His spider-sense was always on high-alert, when was fighting, but never as painfully loud as it had been today. While fighting invisible enemies, his spider-sense was the only sense he could rely on and Peter couldn’t claim that he liked that. He had to allow his body to move on instinct, jumping around and dodging things he could neither see nor hear. It was almost if something else was controlling his body. The spider in him. Peter mused, if that was how Bruce Banner felt, when the Hulk overtook him.

But at least Peter was efficient. He could see why Mr. Stark had insisted on taking him to the mission. If it hadn’t been so awfully dangerous, it would almost be funny how his mentor and the colonel futilely punched the air around them.

Inside of the base though the situation changed a bit for the better. There were a number of agents, who weren’t invisible. Mr. Stark had found the computer control room and was now copying anything he could find in their enemy’s system. Mr. Rhodes and Peter had walked further into the building. Most of the agents were gone by now: fled, captured or dead. The few Hydra agents who were left didn’t stand a chance against the soldier in the robotic suit and the enhanced teenager.

The last place the two of them had left to check was the basement. Apparently, this was where Hydra had experimented.

“Tony,” Mr. Rhodes told the man through the intercom, “you have to see this. They have people in some kind of glass tubes.”

There were three men in glass containers. They were unconscious and strapped against vertically standing, metal boards. Various needles were sticking into their limps pumping some dubious fluid into them. But that wasn’t the scariest thing. The truly horrific thing were the bodies of the men. The men were maybe three times the volume of an average person. Even Captain America would look small standing next to them. The muscles looked painfully bulked up and their arms and legs seemed unnaturally elongated.

“Super soldiers,” Mr. Stark informed Mr. Rhodes and Peter, “I’ve seen that kind of thing  before. Don’t let them out. Just try to find whatever information they have left in the lab and get out of there.”

“Copy that,” Mr. Rhodes answered, “Parker, you have a better understanding of those things. Take a look on the files in the cupboard and take pictures of anything you think might be relevant.”

Peter gave him careful nod and walked past the glass tubes. He gulped as he saw that one of the soldiers had his eyes open. The man looked frightened. The deformed body made it hard to guess the man’s age, but somehow his eyes told Peter that he was still young. In his early twenties maybe.  

“Why would anybody do this to another human?” Peter asked Mr. Rhodes.

The man didn’t give him an answer. “Hurry up, Peter,” he said instead.

Just as Peter had started looking through the files, they could hear Mr. Stark curse through the intercom, “Shit. Pete, Rhodey. Get out of there. The base is going to blow up.”

“What?” Mr. Rhodes asked panic obvious in his voice.

“Some Hydra agent must have activated the base’s self-destruction. There are explosives all over the place. The system says that we have about three minutes to get out.”

“Shit,” Mr. Rhodes cursed now too, “Kid, let’s get out of here. Our job is done.”

Peter grabbed a handful of the files, hoping that something useful was in some of them.

“Hurry, Peter. The files aren’t important anymore,” Mr. Rhodes insisted. Peter gave a firm nod and ran towards the man, who was waiting for him at the entrance to the lab.

But then Peter stopped.

“What about them?” he asked pointing at the men in the tubes.

“What about them?” Mr. Rhodes questioned back slightly irritated.

“They will die in the explosion, if we leave them here,” Peter said.

Mr. Rhodes opened the helmet of his suit. He looked at Peter disbelievingly. “You aren’t serious, are you, kid?”

“Yeah, I am. We can’t just let innocent people die,” the teenager argued.

“They aren’t innocent, Peter,” Mr. Stark’s voice echoed through the intercom, “They are brainwashed Hydra super-soldiers.”

But Peter didn’t agree with Mr. Stark. Brainwashed was for him the key word. Nobody would willingly agree to those kind of body mutations. As horrific and terrifying as those people looked, in the end they were victims. Like Wanda or the Winter soldier. Peter had only met them during their fight in Germany, but Peter could tell that they weren’t bad people. Misguided, sure. But bad? Why would Captain America fight for a person, if that person was bad?

“We can just free them quickly and then run. We have time for that,” Peter claimed.

“They are unconscious, Peter,” Mr. Rhodes tried to reason.

“We can wake them up. Or I can carry them,” Peter suggested.

“Kid, you don’t have time. I’m telling you, get out of there,” Mr. Stark repeated.

Peter ignored the man and opened the glass tube of the one man whose eyes were already open.

Mr. Rhodes’ robotic arm grabbed Peter by his shoulder.

“They will fight us, kid. We will lose time and then nobody will get out,” Mr. Rhodes told him. He tried to keep Peter from getting closer to the strapped soldier, but Peter easily brushed Mr. Rhodes arm off his shoulder as if the man wasn’t wearing a super suit.

“I’m warning you, Parker,” Mr. Stark growled, “You are leaving the basement. NOW.”

But again, Peter didn’t obey Mr. Stark’s order.

“I’m not leaving anybody behind to die in a freaking explosion.”

He climbed into the tube and unstrapped the belt around the soldier’s stomach. The soldier started struggling, but the other bonds still held him tightly. Frightened blue eyes met Peter’s.

“It’s going to be fine,” Peter told him soothingly, “We need to get out of here, alright? We don’t have much time.”

Peter could hear the War machine coming closer to the tube as well.

“One wrong move, soldier, and I will blast your head off,” Mr. Rhodes told to Hydra’s man.

Peter wasn’t sure, if the man understood English, but when Mr. Rhodes pointed his blasters at the man, the soldier nodded quickly.

“Are you both serious?” Mr. Stark questioned through their communication system, “Rhodes, grab the kid and get out of there.”

“The kid is too stubborn,” Mr. Rhodes told the other man.

“I don’t fucking care. You have less than 90 seconds left. Knock the kid out then, if he is to stubborn for common sense. Just get out of there,” Mr. Stark shouted at them, but Mr. Rhodes seemed to be supporting of Peter’s plan now.

“Hurry up, Peter,” he told the boy, ignoring his friend on the intercom.

Peter quickly removed the remaining restrains. The soldier had calmed and was waiting patiently for Peter to free him. Peter half expected the soldier to attack as soon as the last retrain was opened. But the man kept standing calmly even after he was freed. Peter saw Mr. Rhodes’ face relax, when they didn’t get attacked.

“Come on, the next one,” Mr. Rhodes now ordered, his blasters still pointed at the soldier.

“Unbelievable,” Mr. Stark muttered to nobody in particular.

Peter jumped at to the other tube and pressed the button to open it. Just as he started to open the restrains of the unconscious man, Peter’s spider-sense warned him of some immediate danger.

The teenager turned around. The other soldier had disappeared. Mr. Rhodes turned his head around in confusion, firing his blasters around aimlessly, when suddenly something knocked the colonel off his feet. War machine was lying on his back, while something viscously seemed to hammer on the suit.

The super-soldier had turned invisible, Peter realized. Quickly Peter ran towards Mr. Rhodes. His spider-sense told him where the invisible soldier was, and Peter jumped on him. He tried to kick him, but Peter missed. The super-soldier was quick. Quicker than any other Hydra agent Peter had fought today.

“Shit,” Peter cursed.

“What’s happening?” Mr. Stark asked.

“The soldier is attacking us,” Mr. Rhodes explained as he stood up again, “He is invisible.”

“Damn it. You don’t have much time left. Don’t fight him. Just get out of there.”

“Roger,” Mr. Rhodes confirmed, “Parker, let’s get out of here.”

Peter agreed with a nod and tried to jump towards the entrance, when the invisible super-soldier grabbed his leg. Peter crashed to the floor.

“Parker, what’s going on?” Mr. Rhodes wanted to know.

“Just go, Mr. Rhodes. I will be right behind you,” Peter told the man, while he tried to free himself from the soldier’s grip. Suddenly he got lifted into the air and then thrown across room against a wall. The back of his head slammed into the concrete wall. His vision disappeared for a few seconds.

“Peter,” Mr. Rhodes was shouting at him, his voice was painfully loud. “Get up, we need to get out of here.”

Peter gulped a few times, trying to make the bile taste disappear in his mouth, before he opened his eyes again. His head felt like it was going to explode any seconds.

He looked around. His vision needed a few more seconds to return. But when it did, Peter got confused about the scene he was seeing.

Mr. Rhodes was fighting, but apparently not only _one_ invisible soldier. The other tubes were open, the men in them gone. Or not really gone, just invisible and attacking the man in the iron suit.

“What happened?” Peter asked his voice suddenly raspy.

“You were out of it, kid.” Mr. Rhodes informed him. His breathing was labored. “Tony? Where are you? We could use your help here. The kid is hurt, and I can’t fight three of them on my own.”

Something kicked Rhodes and the man got knocked to the floor again.

“I’m on my way,” Mr. Stark answered.

Peter tried to get on his feet, but his head was swimming and he slumped back on the floor. Peter gulped as he saw Mr. Rhodes suit crack. A huge dent appeared at the chest plate of the suit. Sparkle came out of the armor. The man tried to stand up anyway, but another invisible stroke hit the man in the head.  Peter could hear more kicks and strikes; Mr. Rhodes body was pushed around the floor by the invisible enemies. Again, Peter tried to get on his feet. Just when he thought that he would manage, something pushed him again against the wall. Startled Peter realized that his spider-sense hadn’t warned him on time about the invisible soldier attacking him again.

Peter fell again against the floor and braced himself for further attacks. But nothing happened. The room was suddenly still again. Peter tried to get up, but his limps were unresponsive. Mr. Rhodes seemed to be unconscious. The soldiers had left them, probably saving themselves before the facility would go up in air.

Peter could taste blood in his mouth before everything went black.

 

* * *

 

 

A wave of nausea was what woke Peter up again. Bright light blinded him, when he tried to open his eyes and he immediately squinted them shut again. He turned to his side as he felt his mouth fill with bile, but then he suddenly rolled from whatever he had been lying on and fell a few feet down on hard floor. He felt cold, hard tiles under his hands, when he tried to push himself up.

“If you’re gonna puke, there is a bucket to your right,” somebody told him. Peter blinked a few times and turned to see, who was talking to him. After a few seconds his eyes got used to the light.  He was in a small room, which looked like a run-down doctor’s office. He had just fallen from a narrow examination table and was lying on the white tiles. Mr. Stark was sitting on the opposite side of the room on an uncomfortable looking chair. He was staring at him unhappily.

“Where are we?” Peter muttered. He tried to get up, but he felt dizzy and disoriented and just ended up on the floor again.

“We are back in the city with SHIELD,” Mr. Stark informed him. The man stood up, walked over to him and pulled him to his feet before pushing him back on the examination table.

“We are still in Poland?”, the teenager wanted to know.

Mr. Stark scoffed, “Yes, in Poland. You’ve been out for half an hour. Even I can’t get to New York that fast.”

“What happened?” Peter asked. He squinted his eyes close again. The bright light was painful. Mr. Stark pressed a plastic bucket into his hands.

“Puke in that, if you need to,” Mr. Stark ordered before he answered Peter’s question.

“You got your ass kicked by the soldiers, you wanted to save. I got you and Rhodey out just seconds before the base got blown up. You have a hell of a concussion, but your healing factor is doing you a huge favor. You will probably be fine in a few hours,” Mr. Stark summarized as he walked back to his chair.

“And Mr. Rhodes? Is he fine?” Peter lied down again, trying to ignore the pulsing pain in his head.

When Mr. Stark didn’t answer immediately, Peter carefully opened his eyes again and glanced at the man. There was a mix of concern and anger visible in the older man’s face.

“No, he is not fine,” Mr. Stark finally replied his voice somber, “His skull got cracked open and a broken rib punctured his lung.”

“But he will be fine?” Peter asked hesitantly.

“They are trying to stabilize him right now. SHIELD is sending a doctor specialized in skull fractures from New York. If they get him stable, they will operate tonight,” the man explained.

“Could… could he die?” The teenager stuttered.

“Yeah, Parker. He could die,” Mr. Stark answered him.

Peter gulped. But that wasn’t Peter’s fault, was it?

“I… I’m sorry. I messed up,” Peter stammered. If Mr. Stark’s face had been a mix of concern and anger before, the latter feeling overtook the man’s facial expression now. Fury glittered in his mentor’s eyes.

“Yeah, you messed up, Parker,” Mr. Stark started yelling. Peter flinched as Mr. Stark stood up again and walked over to Peter.

“But you know what?” Mr. Stark continued as he glared down on the boy, “You didn’t mess up because you were unprepared, or too young, or even scared. No, Rhodey might die, because your stubborn ass wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“Sorry…” The teenager muttered.

“Sorry, doesn’t cut it. We told you to leave. Several times. But you wouldn’t listen,” Mr. Stark shouted at him.

“I just…” Peter begun, but his voice got stuck in his throat.

“You just what? Wanted to save Hydra’s super-soldiers? You can’t save everybody, Peter,” his mentor argued, “And not everybody deserves saving.”

“But…” Peter started but got cut off by Mr. Stark immediately.

“But what? You could have died, Peter. Rhodey still might. You fucked this up. Royally.”

“Sorry.” The teenager tried again to apologize, but Mr. Stark’s face stayed cold and hostile.

“I’m going to check up on Rhodey now. You stay here until the doctor says that you won’t be tripping over your own feet. I don’t want to see your sorry ass for the next few hours,” the older man concluded before he left the room banging the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every reviewer: Please, we want the love between Tony and Peter to start.  
> Me: Sure.  
> *Adjusts the starting block, waits for the starting signal, shot... and sprints towards the opposite direction*  
> Sorry! (not sorry)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

Mr. Stark had been right, when he had told Peter that he would be fine in a few hours. Immediately after the man had left him alone, the nausea hit him hard again. He puked out green stomach acid; nothing else was in his stomach anymore. After he had been done with that, Peter tried to sleep, just to escape the pain of his pounding head. But worry and concern about Rhodey kept his heart racing in his chest. One of SHIELD’s doctors came to check up on him twice. The first time he forced him to drink some water and apologized for the ineffectiveness of their pain medication. While they all knew about his super-metabolism, they had never tested it to the extend that they could judge what dosage of pain killers would help but not harm Peter. A few hours later, though the pain disappeared on its own and only some deep exhaustion was left. The second time doctor returned, he told Peter that he could get up, if he wanted, and suggested that the teen should grab something to eat.

Peter didn’t argue with. His stomach had started rumbling as soon as the worst pain had disappeared. Peter left the infirmary and made his way towards the kitchen where they had eaten some snacks before the attack. He had hoped to avoid anybody of this mission’s team. Peter felt embarrassed and guilty. He wasn’t ready to face anybody again.

But of course, the first person Peter stumbled across had to be Mr. Stark. The man was sitting in the hallway. There was something wrong with what Peter saw and it took the teenagers a moment to realize what exactly was odd about the picture. Mr. Stark was always doing _something_. If the man wasn’t busy tinkering or talking, he would at least go through something on his phone. Instead Mr. Stark was staring at a door opposite of him, perfectly still. He didn’t even notice Peter entering the hallway.

“How is Rhodey?” Peter asked. Startled Mr. Stark turned to him. It seemed as if the man needed a few seconds to return to reality. His expression turned from confusion, to recognition, to relief, before it suddenly turned cold again.

“They are operating right now. They fixed the punctured lung, so he is stable enough to get operated.” Mr. Stark informed him and then asked in return, “How’s your head, spiderling?”

“Good,” Peter answered briefly.

“Did they take him to a hospital? Where is he getting operated?” Peter wanted to know. He remembered the dusty infirmary he had been in, thus he doubted that Rhodey was getting operated anywhere in the building.

“We built up a medical tent,” Mr. Stark explained and pointed to a door he had been staring at, “In the auditorium was enough space.”

Peter nodded and slumped down on a chair a few seats away from his mentor. Now, that Mr. Stark was mentioning it Peter could hear voices behind the door. Peter could pick out eight different heart beats. Medical terms were thrown around in the other room and Peter could hear the steady humming and beeping of medical instruments.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter told the man again, only to earn a scowl from the man.

“Nope. I’m not having this discussion with you again. Either you shut your mouth or get lost,” the man replied, his tone back to same harshness he had used when Peter had first woken up. Peter shrank further into his seat and pressed his lips together. He considered leaving, but then he didn’t want Mr. Stark to think that he was running away from the consequences of his own actions. Mr. Rhodes’ life was in danger and it was Peter’s fault. He would wait here with Mr. Stark.

He clenched the plastic chair with his fists. His appetite was lost again, anyway.

It was awkward, Peter thought. Mr. Stark was motionless, but in the same time tense. The man was stressed. Stressed, angry and tired, Peter realized.

“I think the operation is going good. Their heart beats are all calm,” Peter tried to comfort his mentor. In response Mr. Stark just lifted an eyebrow and glanced at him.

“I… I can hear their heart beats,” Peter stuttered, suddenly regretting having said anything at all.

The older man scoffed. “Super-hearing. Of course.”

After that, Mr. Stark and Peter were just sitting next to each wordlessly. Ms. Romanoff joined them at some point and forced some food at Mr. Stark. When she saw the teenager watching Mr. Stark eat with wide, uncertain eyes, she left again and returned with two more sandwiches for the boy.

They were all sitting in front of the door to the improvised operation room for hours. Peter had to ask Mr. Stark to use his mobile data to write his aunt as he always did. Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, but let Peter use his phone’s internet. Around two o’clock Ms. Romanoff excused herself, telling them that she would get some sleep in the hotel, but inquired to be called if there were any news. Peter watched her go. He didn’t dare to ask, what hotel they were talking about and if he could go there too. Instead he stayed in the hallway with Mr. Stark, who didn’t even so much as look at Peter.

* * *

 

At some point Peter must have fallen as sleep though. The hallway was empty, and he was lying over two chairs, covered by a jacket, which he recognized as Mr. Stark’s. Peter stretched and tried to get the blood flowing into his stiff limps again. Mr. Stark was nowhere to be seen. The operation was over as Peter couldn’t hear anymore noises behind the door. Peter wondered, how he hadn’t woken up after the operation had finished, but then he guessed that he must have been too tired. He hadn’t slept the night before after all.

Slowly Peter got up and walked towards the conference room, hoping to find somebody there, who could give him an update on things. He could smell coffee and hear Mr. Stark’s voice before he entered the conference room, where their work had first started.

Hesitantly, Peter entered the conference room. Mr. Stark and two SHIELD agents stopped talking and turned towards him. Peter half expected them to throw him out of the room again. Instead they glared at him for a few seconds, before returning to their conversation.

“I will talk to Fury then to send two more teams over,” one of the agents concluded.

Mr. Stark nodded in agreement, “I’m staying here anyway. At least until Rhodey wakes up or is stable enough to be transported back to the states.”

“Alright,” the agent answered, “Get some rest, Stark. It’s been a long night.”

The two agents left the room, leaving Peter and Mr. Stark alone.

Uncertainly Peter walked further into the room, clenching the jacket, which had served as his blanket that night. Mr. Stark took a sip from his coffee and looked at Peter. It was a scrutinizing stare.

“How… how is Mr. Rhodes?” Peter wanted to know.

Mr. Stark sighed. “Considering the circumstances? Good. The operation didn’t have any complication. But we won’t know if he took any brain damage until he wakes up,” he informed the teenager.

“So… he won’t die?”

Mr. Stark’s forehead creased. “No, not for now. But if he will be the same man he had been after he wakes up, we don’t know,” the man replied.

Peter gulped and felt his hands shake slightly.

“I’m sorry…”

“So, you’ve said. That doesn’t help anybody, does it now?”

“But…”

“But what? And stop wrinkling my jacket,” Mr. Stark snapped. The man stood up, walked over to Peter and took his jacket from Peter, while Peter was just standing there, not really knowing what to do with himself. Mr. Stark beat the jacket in the air a few times and folded it, before putting it over a chair. The few motions seemed to have calmed the man a bit. When he turned back to Peter, he just gave a long sigh.

 “God, kid. What am I going to do with you?” Mr. Stark said and then pinched the bridge of his nose, “I shouldn’t have brought you here. I fucked this up as much as you did.”

“It’s not your fault,” Peter murmured, “I should have listened to you.”

Mr. Stark glared at him. “Yeah, you should have.”

There was a pause again, where neither of them said anything. Peter was staring at the floor in front of him, but he knew that his mentor’s gaze was on him.

“Go get some breakfast. There is a bakery on the opposite side of the street,” Mr. Stark was the first one to talk again.

Peter blinked a few times, almost confused about the sudden change of topic. Then he realized that he was indeed hungry.

“Is there nothing left in the kitchen?” Peter wanted to know.

“No.”

“I… I don’t have money… I mean I don’t have any Euros,” he stuttered, deciding to have the wrong currency was less embarrassing than not having any money at all.

“They have Zloty not Euros in Poland,” Mr. Stark educated him. “But the bakery owner takes dollars, too. He will just overcharge you,” the man then added with a shrug. “Go get something to eat. A SHIELD agent will drive you to airport afterwards.”

“Is Happy at the airport?” Peter wanted to know. As grumpy as Happy usually was, Peter hoped that the man would have some soft, consoling words for him. He always had, ever since the whole Homecoming fiasco.

“Nope, Happy decided to go on a Europe trip. Warsaw, Prague, Paris, London, yada, yada, yada. The whole tour. He will come back in three weeks.”

“Oh. You are staying here, too, right? Uh, I’ve overheard you talking before. And why are there two more SHIELD teams coming?” Peter questioned further.

“Well, there are three probably psychological unstable Hydra super-soldiers on the loose,” Mr. Stark answered and the look the man gave him told Peter that Mr. Stark was blaming the teenager super-hero. Peter swallowed. He hadn’t thought about what had happened to those soldiers.

“Maybe I can help?” he offered, but Mr. Stark’s answer was a short, sarcastic laugh.

“I think, you’ve helped enough,” the man sneered, “Your flight is leaving in an hour.”

Peter just gave a nod. “I will get something to eat then,” he said, fully knowing that he wouldn’t actually be able to pay for anything. But he was too ashamed to ask his mentor to borrow him something. The plane probably had food anyway.

“Wait,” Mr. Stark stopped him, “What did you want to talk about?”

“What?”

“Before this whole shit show started. You wanted to talk to me about something. What is it?”

Peter’s heart started racing. He had completely forgotten about that. He had actually completely forgotten about his problems, well his other problems, after he had woken up in the infirmary. Mr. Rhodes’ health had worried him so much that he had pushed the shelter, May and the group home to the back of his mind. Before the mission he had somehow managed to convince himself that he should talk to Mr. Stark. He had planned to tell him about May’s cancer and how they were struggling with money. Back then, he had been sure that Mr. Stark would help him. Maybe he would have paid for May’s treatment so that they could live in an apartment again. Or maybe he would have even found a way to keep Peter from living in a group home. It had probably been the childish part of Peter, who had thought that if he just told Mr. Stark everything, Ironman would swoop in and blast his problems away. But then again, how much could the man really help? He couldn’t make May’s cancer disappear. Maybe he would throw money at them, just because he felt sorry for them, but he couldn’t really help.

And Peter couldn’t ask Mr. Stark for money. Not now anyway, not after Peter had almost killed the man’s best friend. Peter didn’t deserve that. He screwed things up so royally for his mentor, he wouldn’t ask Mr. Stark to help him with his own clusterfuck of problems. Peter’s throat felt tight and startled he realized that tears were building up in his eyes. _Not everybody deserves saving_ , Mr. Stark’s earlier words were echoing in Peter’s head.

“Nothing, it’s not important anymore,” Peter answered, and he hoped that his emotional turmoil was not visible on his face.

“It didn’t seem unimportant back then,” Mr. Stark pushed and took a step towards Peter, “I’m asking you to talk, so talk.”

“I…” Peter took a step away from the man, “Ma…”

Mr. Stark just glared at him. Anger and annoyance plastered his face. When Peter had imagined confessing his problems to the man, it hadn’t been like this. This was not what Peter wanted, it wasn’t what he needed.  

“It’s really not important, Mr. Stark,” Peter repeated.

“Well, alright. But what is not important?” his mentor requested to know. Peter took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Mr. Stark wasn’t going to let this go.

“I…” Peter said, “I don’t want to talk.”

“Why am I not surprised that you can’t even answer to a simple request?” Mr. Stark replied scornfully.

Peter closed his eyes, before Mr. Stark would see the tears in them. When he opened them again, the man was still watching him closely as if he still expected the teenager to answer him. Mr. Stark never took a no for an answer.

Peter mouth felt dry. Then an idea came to his mind and he collected himself enough to speak again. “It was just about some project I’m working on. I was building some noise cancelling headphones. I’ve figured out how to make a passive noise canceling, but I’m struggling with the active one,” Peter quickly told the man, “I think I would need some materials I don’t have, but you might have them. In your lab I mean…”

“Noise cancelling headphones?” Mr. Stark interrupted his rambling and gave him an honestly surprised look.

“Yeah, told you, it’s not important,” Peter muttered in embarrassment.

Mr. Stark paused for a second, studying the teenager in front of him.

“You have them here?” The man suddenly asked. Peter hid his relief, when he realized that Mr. Stark had just bought his lie.

“Uh, yeah…” Peter had packed them. Between school, homework, his patrols and his delivery job, Peter didn’t have a lot of spare time. A flight to Europe and back had seemed perfect for Peter to get some work done.

“Show them,” his mentor requested.

Peter quickly nodded. Nervously he looked for his bag he had left in the room the day before. Between some coats and backpacks of the SHIELD agents, he found his jute bag.

“Kid,” Mr. Stark said as he saw Peter’s bag, “Is that all you took with you? What did you tell your aunt? That you are going grocery shopping around the corner? Because that’s what you packed for.”

“Uh, I mean, it’s only a weekend,” Peter muttered.

“Yeah. A weekend. In November. In Poland. You didn’t even bring a winter coat,” Mr. Stark scolded him.

“I’ve got my Spider-Man suit,” Peter argued. “That’s warm with the integrated heating system and all.”

The older man shook his head in disbelief. “Next time take at least a backpack, so that we can at least pretend that you are big boy and more capable of packing than a kindergartner,” Mr. Stark criticized him. Usually Peter didn’t mind the man’s jabs about his youth that much, but right now, between all the anger and annoyance, the man sounded just straightforward insulting. But any fight had left Peter and he just let the man bully him.

“Now, show me your noise-cancelling-headphones-thingies,” the man requested and hold out his open hand.

Hesitantly Peter reached into his bag and gave the man his headphones. Peter felt anxious again, a different kind of anxiousness though. It was the nervousness of when one gave their homework to a strict teacher. A homework which was messy and unfinished. The headphones looked like scraps, the pieces didn’t match together, and traces of glue were visible. Peter didn’t have a lab or money to buy things. He just worked with what he got.

“Went dumpster diving again, MacGyfer?” Mr. Stark asked as he mustered the headphones in his hands. He started pulling on something that Peter had glued together.

“Wait, no…” Peter protested fearing the man would just simply break it, but his mentor didn’t listen. With a crack the headphones opened.

Mr. Stark walked over to the conference table and sat down. Seemingly out of nowhere the man had pulled out a screwdriver and was now poking the insides of the headphones.

“Are those your webs?” The man wanted to know.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, not completely no. I changed the formula a bit. They are good for sound insulation,” Peter told the man. Mr. Stark nodded approvingly and continued to look at the insides.

“Get some breakfast, kiddo. The agent who is driving you to the airport is waiting at the entrance. I will get those back to you in New York,” Mr. Stark said to the teenager. Peter actually didn’t want the man to keep his headphones. They were almost finished, and Peter didn’t really need the man’s help. That had only been a lie to escape Mr. Stark’s interrogation. But Peter was in no position to deny the man his request. If Mr. Stark found his headphones interesting enough to tinker on them, while waiting for Mr. Rhodes to wake up, then Peter was happy to give them to Mr. Stark. He could deal with the noises in the shelter without them.

“Sure, Mr. Stark. Uh, thanks for taking a look on them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the reviews. They really make me happy.


	10. Chapter 10

“Welcome back, Peter,” May greeted him, “You are earlier back than I would have thought.”  It was Sunday and Peter had just managed to come on time for lunch. As soon as he entered their room, May embraced him in a big, warm hug. Peter felt his anxiousness lessen. When she wanted to let go off the hug, Peter didn’t let her, instead just held her tighter.

“You alright, kiddo?” She asked softly, her fingers slowly circling through his curly hair. Tears were burning in his eyes. He wanted to tell May what happened.  He wanted to tell her that a man was dying because he had messed up. But May didn’t even know that he was Spider-Man. How was he supposed to explain to her that he had just been on a secret mission to fight an evil Nazi organization in Poland? That he had been fighting invisible super-soldier together with Iron Man and War Machine? That he almost got the latter killed?

He wanted to confess everything so much. But of course, Peter didn’t tell May.

“I just missed you,” Peter said instead.

“I missed you too, honey.”, she whispered into his hair and gave him a gentle kiss on the head.

There were standing there for a while. May only let got of Peter, after she felt the teenager completely relaxing in her arms. She put a hand on his cheek and brushed away a tear. Peter hadn’t even realized that he had started crying.

“Peter, I can tell something is wrong. What is it?” May wanted to know.

“I... I messed up. Like big time,” he told his aunt.

“Don’t worry honey. You remember before your homecoming? When you lost your internship but then got it back?” she told him, “I’m sure it’s going to be the same.”

“This is different,” Peter argued, “This time I _really_ messed up. Mr. Stark… I don’t think he will forgive me.”

May’s face turned colder, as soon as he mentioned the billionaire. “Then he won’t, Peter. If he can’t see what a kind, wonderful and smart kid you are, then it’s his own fault.”

“But…” Peter tried to protest but May didn’t let him.

“There are no buts. To be honest, I’m sick of that man. He thinks he can call you whenever he likes, makes you skip school and then blames mistakes on you. Tell me what happened? What could a 15-year-old kid possibly do that is unforgivable?

“I… nothing really,” Peter muttered. May gave him a stern look but luckily didn’t press the point further.

She was watching him for a while longer, while Peter just uncomfortably stared at the floor. She gave a long sigh and sat down on her squeaky mattress.

“Peter,” she said. From the tone of her voice Peter knew that she was about to change topics. “I know this might not be the best moment, but we have to talk about something. Why don’t you sit down, honey?”

Peter froze. The tears were back and making his vision blurry. His heart started beating in an irregular staccato. He shook his head. “I’m not sitting down. Every time you want me to sit down, you tell me something bad.” He knew he sounded childish, but in that moment he didn’t care.

He saw May’s face falter.

“I know, Petey, I know. But I need you to be brave,” she told him.

“But I am brave! It’s just… it’s just so much. Why is it always us? Why do all the bad things happen to us?” he shouted at May. 

“I know it’s unfair,” May answered softly, “But it will get better at some point, Peter.”

“When? Because I don’t want this anymore. I’m tired,” he continued in a resigned voice, “I just want… I just want to go home.”

“We will, honey. When all this is over, we will find a nice new apartment and you will quit your job and you can focus on just being a teenager again, okay? Just a few more weeks. I just need you to be brave for  a few more weeks,” May told him gently, “Can you do this for me?”

Peter swallowed and nodded.

“Thank you, kiddo,” she said and paused for a moment, “What I wanted to tell you is, that I’m already getting operated on Wednesday. The hospital asked me on Friday, if I would agree to have my operation moved to an earlier date and I agreed.”

“Wednesday?” Peter questioned his voice low. From all the things May could have told him, this wasn’t too bad. She had just moved her operation.

“Yes, Wednesday. They had some scheduling issues in the hospital and offered me an earlier date. I agreed, because the earlier I get healthy again, the earlier we can return to our normal lives,” she explained Peter.

“That… that makes sense,” Peter agreed, suddenly feeling a bit silly about how afraid he had been about whatever May was going to tell him

“Good,” May told him smilingly. “How about you take a quick shower and then we go get some lunch. I’ve heard there is lasagna today.”

After Peter had finished his shower, the two of them went down to the common room to get lunch. A few women engaged May and Peter into some trivial disscussion about the scheduling of some group session. Peter and May continued the conversation, when they returned to their rooms. They talked a lot that day. They talked about the weather, about the food, about New York's metro system. Peter told May some urban legends he had picked up at school and May in return told him the newest, harmless gossip of the shelter. They talk a lot that day.

They didn’t mention May’s operation for the rest of the day though. They didn’t talk about possible complications or how long May’s recovery would take. They also didn’t talk about the group home and how long Peter would have to stay there. But Peter stayed in May’s bed that night and neither of them commented on how he was too old for that. He didn’t really sleep though. Instead he listened to May’s slow breathing. He clenched his teeth as he heard a slight irregularity caused by the cancer or by some side effects of the chemo. Peter watched as his phone lid up several times. Ned was calling, apparently the boy had finally gotten his phone back. Peter didn’t pick up.

 

* * *

 

“So where do we finish this, your place or my place?” Robert Austen, or Bobby how most called him, asked Peter. The school bell had just rung, and Bobby looked at Peter questioning.

“What?”

Bobby raised an eyebrow and pointed at the experiment in front of them. It was Monday and Peter’s class was gone to a week-long field trip. The whole class was probably boarding their flights to Florida right now, while Peter was stuck in Bobby Austen’s class. Only the senior classes were still in school as the older students had decided that they would rather study for their exam than go on a field trip. That kind of thing only happened in Midtown Highschool of Science and Technology. The seniors didn’t have all their usual courses though as most teachers were gone as well, but chemistry was one of the classes which was still on the timetable.

When Mr. Cobbwell, the chemistry teacher, had asked Peter if he wanted to participate in this week’s project, Peter had eagerly agreed. Chemistry was one of the teenager’s best subjects and Peter always liked a challenge. As Peter was only a sophomore Mr. Cobbwell decided that he would like to partner Peter up with the class’s best chemistry student. To Peter’s surprise that was Bobby, the school’s number one seller of fun in form of little pink pills.

Some of Peter’s enthusiasm had vanished. He didn’t want to work with teenager, whose fault it was that his aunts arm got broken a few weeks back. He had to suppress his anger as he worked with the other teenager. Peter had accidentally broken test tubes, as he struggled to control his weird spider-strength.

“Can’t you just finish this on your own?” Peter asked, “I mean I don’t really need this. I’m not getting graded.”

Bobby frowned, “I need another pair of hands. I can’t do the experiment on my own, Parker.”

“Then ask somebody else,” Peter protested.

“I can’t, man. You agreed to do the project. It’s just one afternoon.” Bobby argued slightly angry. Peter clenched his teeth. His gaze wandered to Mr. Cobbwell and Peter tried to come up with an excuse how he could back out of the assignment without disappointing his teacher.

“Alright,” Peter gave in, after some bargaining with himself, “But let’s work in the library then.” Peter wouldn’t take Bobby to the shelter. First he didn’t want anybody to know, where he lived and second he wasn’t even sure if he could just take visitors to the women’s shelter. But Peter also really didn’t want to go to Bobby’s place.

“We can’t do a chemistry experiment in a library, Parker,” Bobby replied, his forehead creasing in irritation, “And the school closes earlier today. My house is a mess. So, let’s go to your place.”

“No! No, I mean, my aunt doesn’t like visitors,” Peter objected.

Bobby sighed in defeat, “Well, my place it is then. Do you want to come with me after school?”

“Uh, yeah. Fine,” Peter finally agreed.

Bobby relaxed again and gave him a cracked smile.

“I don’t have drug kitchen in my apartment, if that’s what you are worried about,” Bobby laughed before leaving the classroom.

 

* * *

 

When Bobby had said that his house was a mess, he hadn’t been kidding. Bobby lived in a small apartment not far from Peter’s old apartment building. The size was also similar to May’s and Peter’s old apartment. But the atmosphere of Bobby’s home couldn’t be more different than from the apartment, where Peter had spent the past years of his life. The Parker’s apartment had always been cozy and clean. May had always spend a lot of time cleaning every corner of the flat, rearranging furniture and repainting their walls more often than necessary. Bobby’s apartment on the other hand was run down. The walls which were once white were turning grey. The floor was slightly sticky with god knows what and the living room table was littered with empty beer cans.

“Sorry,” Bobby muttered as they entered. The other boy turned a little red and started cleaning up the empty cans, “My mum’s boyfriend had some friends over yesterday, I guess.”

“Uh, don’t worry,” Peter said feeling a bit sorry for the other teenager, “It’s fine.”

“Let’s go to my room,” Bobby suggested and pulled Peter by his sleeve. He led him to a tiny room, which wasn’t less messy than the rest apartment. But somehow it reminded Peter more of his own old room. Despite the mess Bobby had a neatly arranged library and a clean desk.

“Wow,” Peter said as he took a look at Bobby’s library, “have you read all those?” Peter took one of the books out of the boy’s library and flipped through its pages. Except for a few fantasy novels, Bobby only had books on chemistry. Most of them where on college level.

“Yeah,” Bobby explained and pointed at a blackboard at the wall, “I’m kind of working on something.”

Peter read through the chemical formulas written on the blackboard and narrowed his eyes. He recognized some of the chemical formulas and quotations.

“Drugs? You are developing drugs?” Peter questioned and turned to look at the other teenager shocked.

“No!” Bobby answered and slightly blushed, “No, I mean yes. It is a drug. But not what you think. I’m working on a pain medication which is non-addictive.”

“Weird hobby for a drug dealer,” Peter commented. Bobby just huffed a laugh.

“Jeez, thanks Parker. I’m not planning on being a drug dealer forever. As soon as I’m done with high-school, I’m leaving this shit hole and I’m off to college. Now come on, let’s work on our project. I want to be done at some point today.”

 

* * *

 

“You are good at this,” Bobby suddenly said. Peter and he had been working on their chemistry homework for the past three hours. As much as Peter had been reluctant about working with Bobby, Peter had to admit that he had enjoyed the project. Bobby had a wide knowledge on chemistry, while Peter was a bit more creative than the other boy. There weren’t a bad team.

“Thanks, you too,” Peter said.

“You know, if you are interested, we can work on the pain medication together, you know,” Bobby offered.

Peter turned to the black board. Bobby’s research did seem interesting. But Bobby was a drug dealer. As innocent as the research seemed, Peter couldn’t just oversee that people got hurt because of the other boy.

“I could use some help. I tried to talk to Mr. Cobbwell about it, but he just told me that it was too advanced for me and that I should focus on college applications,” Bobby continued, “But I’m stuck and I could use a fresh mind on this.”

“Sorry, Austen,” Peter said, “But…I don’t have so much time.”

Bobby pressed his lips together and looked away. He stared at his blackboard for a while, before speaking again. “It’s because of my job, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Peter answered honestly.

“You know, I’m not a bad guy, Parker.”

Peter folded his arms in front of him. “Tell that to the kid, who had spend two weeks in the hospital because of you.”

“I told him not to take more than two. It’s not my fault if people are too daft to listen,” Bobby retorted.

“Yeah, what about my aunt?  She had nothing to do with it and your dealer buddies broke her arm,” Peter said back.

“There are not my buddies,” Bobby argued. He was angry, but there was also a new tone in his voice. Guilt. “But yeah, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think they would… I didn’t think they would actually hurt you or your aunt,” Bobby apologized.

“I need to go,” Peter said and stood up, “You can finish this up on your own, right?”

 

* * *

 

“It’s going to be fine, Peter,” May repeated for the eighth time today. It was Wednesday morning. May had allowed Peter to skip school, so that he could wait with her in the hospital until she got operated. The operation had been scheduled for the afternoon, but they had asked May to already come in the morning. She was lying on a hospital bed, already prepped for her operation. Soon she will get her anesthesia. Peter knew that she only pretended to be brave. She was clutching his hand so tightly that Peter was sure that it would have bruised if it wasn’t for his healing abilities.

“I know, it’s going to be fine,” Peter replied. He was lying too. He was just as scared as May was. Today was the day, where their struggles would finally get to an end. Or today was the day, when Peter would finally lose everything.

They both were staring at the door, waiting for the doctor finally to come in.

“I love you. You know that, right kid?” May told him. She turned to him.  Her eyes looked ridiculously big ever since she had started losing weight.

“I know. I love you, too,” Peter answered.

May smiled at him, but it looked like it took a great afford to do that. Then she sighed heavily.

“Peter,” she then said her voice raspy, “Promise me, if this goes wrong, that you will keep fighting.”

“It won’t go wrong!” Peter protested. Panic was rising in his chest and making it hard to breath.

“Just promise me, Peter. If… if I don’t make it, that you will take care of yourself. You will finish school, and then college and marry somebody nice and have children. Please. Tell me that you will do all that.”

“I will! I will do all that! But please, May, you will make it. You will be there for all of it,” Peter cried.

May smiled again at him, but this time it seemed to be easier. He could feel the grip of her hand relax a bit.

They had been waiting for the doctor to come for two hours now. But when the doctor finally entered the hospital room, Peter wished that he would have had two hours more to wait. Two hours more with May. Or four hours, or six, or eight…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! I actually didn't want to start May's operation already in this chapter, but then there would have been no plot development in this chapter. I mean I'm obviously setting something up with Bobby, but I know that it might not have been the most exciting part.
> 
> God, I think I want Tony to end all of this right now. I'm about to skip the plot I actually have layed out just so that I can finally get to the part, where I can resolve this clusterfuck of problems.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you still have some patience left and are not yet sick of the angst.
> 
> I love you all and each of your comments! I got quiet a lot of comments on the last chapter and I really enjoy reading about your opinions. So thank you again!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for any medical inaccuracies.

Peter was sitting in the hospitals waiting room area. He was already waiting for four hours, but May’s operation didn’t seem to be close to an end. The teenager wasn’t exactly sure if he should bless or curse his super-hearing. He could hear every word exchanged in the operation hall. So far everything seemed to go smoothly. May’s heartbeat was steady and strong. The main surgeon seemed confident. It was calming to know that the surgery was going fine, but every other second Peter tensed up, when he heard something he couldn’t understand. Everything seemed to go smoothly, until of course it didn’t.

“ _Her oxygen levels are dropping_ ,” one of the doctors suddenly said in an urgent voice. Peter jumped out of his seat, his heart racing. Confused eyes looked up at him. Of course, nobody except him in the waiting room knew what he had just heard.

“ _Her lungs are collapsing_ ,” the other surgeon replied. Peter felt that for some reason he couldn’t breathe, too.

 _“Shit, insert a chest tube_ ,” the first doctor said. The machine monitoring May’s heartbeat was beeping in an increasing fast rhythm. Until suddenly there was only one continuous noise.

For a second which seemed to be longer than a lifetime Peter thought that May’s heartbeat had stopped. Only after somebody grabbed his shoulder and shook him Peter realized that the continuous beep wasn’t coming from the monitoring machine, but that it was a ringing in his ears. His heart was racing so quickly and somehow Peter just couldn’t breathe. But more importantly his super-hearing had suddenly decided to leave him. Peter couldn’t hear what was happening in the operation room.

Faces appeared in front of him and they seemed to say something, but the voices seemed to be muffled. He couldn’t even hear what people who were in the same room as he were saying. Somebody pushed him back into his seat. Panicked he looked at the people in front of him. He recognized a nurse who had explained the procedure earlier today to him and his aunt.

Peter saw her lips moving, but he couldn’t hear her. The nurse in front of him kept telling something. Then she started to take exaggerated breaths, fluid motions with her hands emphasizing her lung’s movements.

Peter realized that he wasn’t breathing at all, that he was about to suffocate. But did it really matter? His heart was racing so quickly that it was painful in his chest. Maybe he would die.

 The nurse took his hand in his, he tried to flinch away from her touch, but she insisted. She kept talking to him even though he couldn’t hear her. She was still breathing exaggeratingly. Finally, he tried to copy her breathing.

“That’s it, kid,” he could then hear the nurse’s voice again, “Follow my breathing. It will be over soon.”

It took a minute longer for Peter’s breathing to finally settle down. His heart slowed too although it still pained in his chest. The nurse smiled at him as she saw him relax. Curious eyes were still on him, but apparently somebody had told the other people in the waiting room to leave them some space.

“You just had a panic attack, kid. It’s nothing unusual in stressful situation.”

“My aunt… they said her lungs collapsed. What’s happening?” Peter wanted to know.

“Nothing is happening. Your aunt is still in surgery,” the nurse informed him.

“But… I heard the doctor say that her lungs collapsed. Is she fine?” Peter asked.

The nurse looked at him with confusion. “Child, your aunt’s doctor is still with her in the surgery. You couldn’t have heard him.”

“But I have! I have like, uh, good hearing. Like very good. I’ve heard him say that my aunt’s lungs collapsed. But something is wrong, but I don’t know what happened. And my hearing is suddenly not so good. Can you like check, if everything is okay?”

The nurse put her hand on his cheek, whipping away tears Peter hadn’t even noticed. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the noises in the operation room. It took him some afford, but finally his enhanced hearing returned. The doctors seemed calmed again and the beeping of May’s heart monitor was steady and slow again. May was alive. Everything was going to be fine.

“Even with very good hearing you couldn’t have heard what the doctor said. There are two walls between us and the operation hall. I’m sure everything will be fine. The surgery will be over soon.” The nurse tried to calm him.

Her hand still hadn’t left his cheek and was caressing him gently. It felt nice. Her hands were as soft as aunt May’s.

“Do you have anybody you could call?” She asked softly, “A friend? A family member? You shouldn’t wait here on your own.”

“Uh, my friend is on a field trip with the rest of my class,” Peter explained with a raspy voice, “And… uh, I don’t have family… except for my aunt of course.”

Her hand left his face and landed on his shoulder squeezing it tightly. She pressed her lips together for a moment as she seemed to think.

“What about a neighbor?”

Peter shook his head. “Can you… can you check up, if May is okay?”

“I can’t just walk into the operation, honey. But I will call somebody, who will wait with you. It will make it easier, trust me. How about a teacher, or a sports trainer? I’m sure there is somebody, who would wait with you.”

Peter blushed in embarrassment when he imagined him calling any of his teachers. He never had this kind of relationship with any of Midtown’s employees. Then his thoughts wandered off to Mr. Stark. It hadn’t even been a week since the mission. Mr. Stark wouldn’t come, if Peter called, would he? He probably would, feeling somehow responsible for Peter. He wouldn’t like to come, but he would come.

Peter imagined Mr. Stark strolling into the hospital, probably startling everybody in the waiting room. He would be angry, of course. He still wouldn’t have forgiven Peter. Before doing anything else he would probably demand information about May and the nurses would give it to him. Because he was Tony freaking Stark. Then he would slump down on one of the chairs, glance at Peter slightly disapprovingly and start scrolling through his phone. But he would be there. That would be enough for Peter. He just didn’t want to be alone.

 “I… I have somebody… I think. Uh, my boss…from my internship,” Peter muttered, and the nurse breathed out in relief.

“Alright, Peter. You can’t use your phone here. Hospital policy. But you are allowed to use your mobile phone in the cafeteria. How about you give your boss a call and then you get something to eat,” she told him and pushed a card into his hands, “this is my employee card, you can get some food with it at the cafeteria. Even if you aren’t hungry right now, get something for later.”

Peter gave a tired nod. He put the card away and then took out his phone.

Peter hadn’t asked Mr. Stark for an update about Mr. Rhodes. What if the man wasn’t awake yet? What if he had died? Peter was certain that Mr. Stark would never forgive him that.

And Peter wasn’t even sure if he would ever forgive himself.

 

* * *

Peter sat down in corner furthest away from everybody in the cafeteria. He hesitated for a moment, before quickly pressing the button to call Mr. Stark. Usually Mr. Stark picked up instantly, but this time the dial tone beeped several times. Peter almost backed out and he was about to end the call, when he heard Mr. Stark’s voice on the other side of the line.

“Yeah?” Mr. Stark’s voice sounded almost drowsy. It was evening, sure, but it was nowhere close to Mr. Stark’s usual bedtime.

“Sorry, for calling, but…” Then his voice got stuck in his throat again, “Uh, how is Mr. Rhodes?”

Mr. Stark sighed heavily. “Still unconscious,” the man informed him shortly.

Peter gulped.

“I, sorry, Mr. Stark…” Peter stuttered.

“Yeah, I know. Look kid, I understand you want some updates on Rhodey’s condition. I should have informed you. You will get daily updates from now on. But I’m still in Poland and it’s past two o’clock here. Rhodey is still unconscious and his condition hasn’t changed. Not for the better not for the worse. Unless there something else, I would like to go back to sleep,” Mr. Stark told him.

Peter could feel that his breathing got difficult again. His heartrate increased again. He couldn’t have another panic attack so shortly after the first one?

What if Mr. Rhodes died? What if May died? Peter would have nothing left. He would lose Mr. Stark, too, if he hadn’t lost him already. He would have nobody left. Only Ned, but it was only a matter of time before Peter screwed that friendship up for good, too.

“I… sorry,” Peter replied, “I just wanted to ask about Mr. Rhodes. Uh, good night Mr. Stark.”

“Good night, kid. Call in the morning again, alright? We can talk a bit longer about everything, if you like.” For the first time since the mission Mr. Stark’s voice was a bit softer. Then he cleared his throat. “Actually, wait. No, let’s talk about everything now. You up for that? I think there are few things I need to make clear.”

“You want to talk about the mission?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, among other things. Look kid,” Mr. Stark started, but Peter didn’t let him continue.

“Can I… call you back in the morning? I can’t… do this right now. I… my aunt… my aunt…”

“Your aunt what?” Mr. Stark barked back, clearly unhappy with being interrupted.

“My aunt is calling me for dinner. Tomorrow, alright?” Peter hastily lied, somehow just not managing to tell his mentor the truth.

Mr. Stark huffed in annoyance. “Tomorrow then. I will call you after school.”

“Alright, good night, Mr. Stark.”

“Good night, kid.”

 

* * *

 

Peter returned to the waiting area. The nurse that he previously comforted him approached him again.

“Is somebody coming?” She asked.

“My… boss is in Europe. I forgot,” he answered to the woman. Her shoulders slumped a bit in disappointment.

“Did you at least speak to him a bit? Do you feel a bit better?” She wanted to know.

“Yeah… yeah. I feel better,” Peter lied.

“Did you get something to eat?” the nurse required to know. Peter just nodded, even though he had completely forgotten about buying food. He gave the nurse her employee card back.

“I have to work, but how about you sit with me behind the information desk?” she offered.

Peter just nodded again and followed her,

Suddenly his phone blinked again. A message from Mr. Stark.

“ _Just remembered_ ,” it read, “ _aren’t you supposed to be on a field trip?_ ”

Peter frowned for second. How did Mr. Stark know that he wasn’t? Did he track Peter’s phone? Then, he remembered his excuse of having dinner with his aunt.

Peter was hesitating for a moment. He tried to come up with a rational reason why he wasn’t at the field trip. But for once Peter went with the truth, too exhausted to keep up lying.

“ _The field trip was too expensive. I didn’t go,”_ Peter answered.

As soon as he had sent the message, Peter’s phone started vibrating. Mr. Stark was calling him. Peter declined the call. Then he remembered how Mr. Stark had hacked his phone the last time Peter hadn’t picked up. Peter removed the battery out of his phone.

 

* * *

 

The operation took about half an hour longer. The nurse looked quite confused, when Peter jumped out of his seat and walked to the door leading to the operation room just seconds before the surgeon entered the waiting area.

“Family of Mrs. Parker,” the man asked. Peter stepped closer to the man. The nurse was standing behind Peter and put a comforting hand on teenager’s shoulder.

“I’m her family,” Peter told the man.

“Are you alone or should we wait for somebody else before I explain everything?” The doctor wanted to know.

“I’m alone.” Peter said and the nurse squeezed his shoulder. The doctor gave him a firm nod.

“Your mother is out of surgery. We successfully removed one lobe of the lung and the surrounding lymph nodes. That are good news. She will wake up soon and then we will move her to the ICU. Unfortunately, during the operation her lung collapsed due to an air leak in her lungs,” the doctor elaborated, “She is on a mechanical ventilator right now and she will probably have to stay on it until her lungs have recovered enough. Her recovery will be longer, but she is stable.”

Peter didn’t even notice how tense he was until he felt his muscles relax.

“She is going to be alright?” Peter wanted to know.

“The operation was successful,” the doctor, “Her chances are very good. The collapse lung will just prolong her recovery.”

“Can I… can I see her?” Peter asked.

“As soon as we move her to the ICU you can visit her, son,” the doctor confirmed.

“Thank you! Thank you so much.”

Then suddenly the nurse pulled him into a hug. “See, Peter, everything is going to be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for all the comments and Kudos. They mean the world to me. Love you 3000.


	12. Chapter 12

Peter hesitated when he entered May’s room. The nurse gently pushed him closer towards her bed. May had seemed fragile all those past weeks, but in the dimmed light of the ICU hospital room she looked like a porcelain doll. Her deathly paleness made her hollow cheeks much more pronounced. Her skull was hairless and there was no bright colored headscarf to hide her baldness. Different kind of machines and drips were connected to his aunt. Peter felt like if he would just breath to strongly, he would break her.

“I know it looks scary, Peter, but it really isn’t,” the nurse tried to comfort him.

She took his hand and guided him slowly towards the bed. She pulled a chair next to the bed and told Peter to sit down.

“She woke up shortly after the anesthesia wore off. So, you don’t need to worry if the anesthesia went wrong. Everything is fine. She is just sleeping right now, and she will probably until the morning.”

Peter just gave a slow nod as an answer.

“How about I explain all the machines to you? When you know what they are for it becomes much less scary,” she told him.

Again, Peter just gave a nod as an answer. He had actually already read up on most procedures and machines regarding a lobectomy, but he let the nurse explain to him what the ventilator was, the heart monitor, the drip with antibiotics and how they worked. Even though Peter already knew most of the things she explained, he found himself calming.

“Okay, honey,” she told him at the end, “I need to go back to work before my colleagues get angry at me. If you need anything you will find me in the waiting room area, alright?”

“Yes… thank you… also for helping during the panic attack and everything,” Peter muttered, and she gave him a sad smile.

“Of course, Peter,” she replied and patted his shoulder, “You are a brave kid. I bet your aunt is very proud of you.”

 

* * *

 

“Peter Parker?” a firm voice asked. A man was standing in the doorway of May’s hospital room. It was shortly past mid-night, a few hours after the end of May’s operation. May hadn’t so much as stirred, but Peter had found it incredibly calming to watch her sleep. The heart monitor had a steady, rhythmic beat accompanied by the hissing sound of the ventilator.

Peter had somehow hoped that CPS had forgotten about him. May and he hadn’t talked about what exactly was going to happen after her operation. Maybe she had forgotten in all her worry about the operation or maybe she had thought that she would be awake for when CPS workers showed up.

She hadn’t mentioned it and Peter also hadn’t want to ask. When nobody had shown up after the operation, he had somehow thought that nobody would show up. That he could just stay with May at the ICU for the rest of the night.

But of course, Peter knew his hopes were crushed as soon as he saw the man entering May’s patient room. He was wearing a jeans and sport shoes, probably trying to look young. But he was also wearing a shirt corduroy blazer. There were only elbow patches missing to complete the ‘mid-life crisis teacher look’.

“Yeah, I’m Peter Parker,” Peter answered and the man gave him a nod.

“Hi, Peter. I’m Daniel Williams. But call me Dan. I’m from working for Child Protective Services. I’ve been in contact with your aunt. How is she?” The man said and pressed a badge into Peter’s hand. It was a piece of plastic with the man’s picture, his name and a number. Absentmindedly Peter stared at the card, not really reading it.

“The operation went well,” Peter answered shortly.

“Good. That’s great. She is a nice woman,” Mr. Williams commented, “And she loves you a lot, I could tell.” The man squeezed his shoulder, but it felt fake; just too practiced. Mr. Williams had probably said the same words a million times to other children.

“How are you, Peter?” Mr. Williams continued to ask. Peter just shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, we should have sent somebody over sooner. Somehow the information that your aunt’s operation got moved to an earlier date got lost.”

“It’s alright,” Peter replied quietly. He wished they hadn’t come at all. The social worker squeezed him another time. Peter clenched his teeth and tried not to shudder from the touch.

“You know that you can’t stay here, right?”

Peter gulped and looked up at the man.

“You are taking me to a group home,” Peter said, and Mr. Williams nodded.

“It’s only temporary of course. Until your aunt can take care of you again,” he elaborated.

“Can’t I stay here? Just for tonight? Until she wakes up?” Peter tried to bargain, but he could already see in Mr. Williams’ face that arguing was going to be futile.

“It’s already past the visiting hours of the ICU. The nurses have actually called us,” Mr. Williams informed him, “Even if I would agree that you can stay here one more night, the doctors wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“Oh,” Peter muttered.

“Do you have your things with you?” Mr. Williams wanted to know.

“No, they are still in the shelter,” Peter explained. His eyes were again on his aunt. He didn’t want to leave her.

“That’s alright. We will pick it up tomorrow. Let’s have a quick last chat with your aunt’s doctor and then we are going, alright?” Mr. Williams told him.

 

* * *

 

Mr. Williams tried to start a conversation with Peter on their drive to the group home. Peter on the other hand wasn’t very interested in any kind of dialogue with the man and only answered in single syllables. The man insisted on buying Peter a burger and some fries at a drive through Burger King and Peter just accepted the food, not really knowing if he was hungry or not.

“There we are,” Mr. Williams said as he parked the car. He pointed at a house in the street. Peter didn’t know what he had expected a group home to look like, but he hadn’t thought that it would look just so regular. It didn’t stand out in anyway from the other houses of the street.

“There is nothing to be afraid of Peter,” Mr. Williams tried to comfort him, “This is just temporary, nobody is taking you away from your aunt. You know that, don’t you?”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “I guess,” he muttered.

“Good. This is nothing bad. It’s a home. There are other kids just like you. Maybe you will even make some friends. We have a lot of activities planned in the afternoon and on the weekends. You will see. It’s not all that bad,” the social worker tried to convince him. Peter gave a nod, but he didn’t really understand. How was this supposed to be a home?

“Alright, then let’s go. We all want to go to bed, don’t we?” Mr. Williams said encouragingly. He left the car, but Peter only moved when the man had come to other side of the car and opened his door.

“Come on, Peter. Let’s go,” Mr. Williams requested nodding towards the group home. Mr. Williams pulled out his phone, glanced up the building and dialed a number. The other person picked up quickly.

“Yes, Linda. It’s me, Dan. We tried to reach you earlier, but you didn’t pick up. I’ve got a kid who needs a bed tonight. We are at the front door; I didn’t want to ring and wake the other kids up. Yeah, see you in a bit,” Mr. William quickly explained over the phone. Peter uncomfortably shifted on his feet. He felt awkward, standing there in the middle of the night with a stranger knocking at another stranger’s door, who apparently didn’t even know that they were coming.

There were two clicks at the other side of the door and a woman in a morning gown looked at them with a frown.

“Come on in,” she said firmly. When Peter hesitated, Mr. William put his hand on Peter’s back and guided him into the house.

“I’m Linda Davis,” she greeted him, “And you are?” She stretched out her hand.

“Peter. Peter Parker,” the teenager answered and shook her hand. She smiled softly at him.

“Peter, is it alright for you to wait here, while I talk to Dan for a second?”

“Uh, sure.”

Mrs. Davis gave him another smile.

“Dan, let’s go to my office,” she then said in a stricter voice.

The two social workers disappeared behind a door, leaving Peter alone in the hallway.

 

* * *

 

“ _Dan, I told you, we are full_ ,” Peter heard Mrs. Davis tell Mr. Williams. Peter knew that this conversation wasn’t meant for his ears, but a simple wall didn’t provide any sort of sound barrier for him.

“ _Yeah, so is any other group home in Queens,”_ Mr. Williams answered. Nervously Peter clenched his fists. What if they didn’t have a place for him here? Or anywhere in Queens?

 _“I don’t have any free beds, Dan. When I don’t answer your calls, it’s for a reason,”_ Mrs. Davis argued back, “ _What about Brooklyn? I’m sure there must be one group home in this god damn city that is not overcrowded yet.”_

_“The kid’s school is in Queens. I promised his aunt that he can still go to his old school, I’m not going to break a promise.”_

Mrs. Davis huffed an annoyed laugh. “ _Then don’t make promises you can’t keep,”_ the woman retorted _, “Most of the kids have to change schools. It’s really nothing unusual.”_

 _“You don’t understand,”_ Mr. Williams insisted, “ _The kid is going to Midtown Tech on a scholarship. I’m not going to screw his life up and dump him at a shitty public school.”_

“ _Public schools aren’t that bad. If he’s smart, he will make it there, too,”_ Mrs. Davis argued, but Peter could hear that her voice had softened a bit.

“ _Yeah, maybe. Maybe not. Listen, Linda. Him and his aunts are poor as rats. The kid lost his uncle about a year ago and now his aunt got cancer. They lived in a women’s shelter for the past month. The kid is delivering pizzas in the evening to pay for his aunt’s cancer treatment. He is a good kid and I’m not going to screw the one thing up that he has going for him.”_

 _“How bad is his aunt’s cancer? Is she going to make it?”_ Mrs. Davis asked. Peter felt his hand get cold. May would make it. The operation went well. Why then was Peter’s heart racing.

“ _She got a lobectomy today. Her prognosis is good,”_ Mr. Williams replied, and Peter calmed down. He knew what the doctors had said, but for a brief moment Peter hadn’t been sure anymore what they had said.

“ _So? She will stay in the hospital two weeks at most. The kid will not lose his scholarship because he has to go to another school for two weeks.”_

Now it was Mr. Williams turn to scoff. “ _It’s not going to be two weeks and you know it. Even if she gets released in two weeks, she will have a long recovery. And she is homeless. She can’t take care of the kid, not for a long while anyway. It will be weeks, if not months until she gets the custody back.”_

Peter’s heart plummeted. He kind of had known that it was going to be more than two weeks. But months? Months without May? What was she going to do when she got released from the hospital? Peter felt tears running down his cheeks.

There was a moment of silence in the Mrs. Davis office.

“A _ren’t there any emergency foster parents in Queens who could take him?”_ the woman asked.

“ _If there were, I wouldn’t be here in the middle of the night begging you to take the boy in,”_ Mr. Williams answered.

_“What about his birth parents?”_

_“Died in a car crash seven years ago,”_ the man simply answered. Peter gulped. In all this mess he hadn’t even thought once about his parents. He remembered them, he hadn’t been that young after all, but somehow that life with his parents almost seemed like a dream, something that had never really been true.

“ _I don’t have a free bed.”_ The woman stated again.

“ _Linda, have you been listening to me…”_

 _“I have,”_ she replied, “ _We don’t have a free bed. Literally. Help me get one of those field beds we used for the camping trip from the basement. We will set it up in Harvey’s room.”_

Mr. Williams sighed in relief. “ _Thank you, Linda. I owe you one.”_

“ _Yeah, you do.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos. I got like thiry comments on the last chapter and I have to say that was kind of amazing.  
> This chapter was kind of not that eventful, it's just a set up for what's coming next. It doesn't have too much inner monologue, I hope it doesn't feel like I'm rushing it. (Because maybe I kind of am. I want Tony to safe the kid, but there is still some more whump to come)
> 
> Anyway, thank you all. The next update will come soon!


	13. Chapter 13

Mrs. Davis knocked three times on a door. There were several protesting grunts coming from the inside telling her to go away.  Mrs. Davis didn’t listen to the objections but simply entered the room.

“Sorry, boys,” she said, “But we’ve got a surprise visitor tonight.”

“Yo, another kid, Linda?” one of the boys complained, “We are already ten. That’s two more than it’s supposed to be.”

“As far as I know, I’m still the manager of this place. So, it’s up to me how many children are supposed to live here, Phillip,” Mrs. Davis replied snappish and then told Peter softly. “Come on in, Peter. They won’t bite.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Linda,” another boy muttered.

Hesitantly Peter entered the room. It was a small room with two bunk beds squeezed in. There were four beds in total, all of them already occupied. A few cupboards in varying sizes were standing against the wall and a long table by the window. The room reminded Peter of a cheap hostel room. The furniture was mismatched and plastered with scribbles.

“God, children. Open a window, I’m suffocating in here,” Mrs. Davis complained as she walked into the room. She quickly opened both room’s windows.

“Linda, we are already four in here,” another teenage boy protested, “There are only four beds in here. Do you want us to share beds now?”

Mrs. Davis rolled her eyes. “No, Harvey, you don’t have to share beds. We have a field bed for Peter.”

“Five of us in this shithole of a room? This must be against some laws or something,” it was Phillip again, who protested.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Phil. Linda says he sleeps here, he sleeps here,” a third boy muttered from his bed, “Let’s get over with it. I want to sleep.”

“Language, boys,” Mrs. Davis said, but in a resigned voice. “Dan, Peter, let’s put the bed here.” Mrs. Davis stacked the two chairs in front of the table on top of each other and pulled them to the side. Mr. Williams and Peter carried the field bed to where Mrs. Davis was pointing. Mr. Williams tried to open the field bed, which was folded in half, but apparently the hinges were rusty. He struggled with it for a while before Peter took it from the man with a sigh and pulled it open easily. The social worker glanced at Peter slightly surprised for a second. Then he put a blanket and pillow on the field bed.

“All set,” Mr. Davis said with a smile, “Can one of you boys lend Peter something to sleep in? He doesn’t have anything for tonight.”

“Yeah, sure,” it was the boy named Harvey, who answered.

“Alright,” Mrs. Davis said, “Let’s all go to sleep then. Peter, we will talk about everything tomorrow, alright?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, thank you, Mrs. Davis. And uh, thank you too, Mr. Williams. For making sure I get to stay somewhere close to my school and all,” Peter told them. Both Mr. Williams and Mrs. Davis gaze softened.

“It’s Linda and Dan, Peter,” Mrs. Davis said gently and squeezed his shoulders, then her strict tone returned as she addressed the other boys again, “Be nice to him, boys. And don’t interrogate him the whole night. You all still have to go to school tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Mr. Williams said, “I will pick you up after school to get your things with you, Peter.”

“Thanks, Mr. Williams,” Peter muttered. He saw that the man was about to say something, probably about how Peter had addressed him again, but then he closed his mouth again. He gave him a tired smile and nodded before leaving.

“I’m going to sleep now too. Good night, children,” Mrs. Davis said and then added warningly, “Play nice.”

Mrs. Davis left the room, too, and the door to the room closed.

Awkwardly Peter kept standing in the middle of the room, while three of the boys stared at him. The fourth one was still sleeping. Peter could only see a small bulk under a blanket.

The three boys who were awake were all teenagers. Two of them around Peter’s age. Only Harvey was a bit older, a slight blond-reddish beard was growing on his chin.

“What’s up with the Mr. and Mrs. thing? Somebody put a stick up your ass?” Harvey asked.

“What? No, uh, I’m just being polite,” Peter defended himself. The older teenager sneered and jumped down from his bunk bed. Instinctively Peter took a step back. Harvey was at least a head taller than Peter.

“So, what’s your story? How did your folks fuck up?”  Harvey asked. He walked a few steps closer to Peter.

“What?” Peter muttered confused.

Harvey rolled his eyes. “There are not too many different stories in this place. Drugs or prison or both. That’s why most of us are here. So, why are you here?”

“I… no. It’s not that. My aunt is sick. She has cancer,” Peter replied.

“She going to die?” Harvey questioned further and looked at Peter with one raised eyebrow.

“What? No! She is fine. She just had a lobectomy, uh, that’s an operation when they remove a lobe from your lung, and I have to stay here until she gets released from the hospital,” Peter explained to the other boy.

“So, this is only a temporary thing for you?” Harvey wanted to know, “How long are you staying? Like two weeks?”

“Yeah, it’s only temporary.”

“What about your parents?” Harvey asked.

“They died a long time ago. In a car crash,” Peter answered.

“Holy shit,” Phil said, “I’ve been here for almost two years now. I never met a real orphan.”

Peter frowned a bit at that.

“I’m not an orphan… I mean… I am. But my aunt is great. She’s only sick, that’s all. But she will make it,” Peter said and he wasn’t sure who he was telling that. The other boys or himself.

Harvey glared at Peter. The teenager’s arms were folded in front of him. Peter couldn’t really read the boy. He felt nervous.

“Uh, would you give me a T-shirt or something to sleep in, please?” Peter stuttered.

“You want a T-Shirt?” Harvey asked and there was suddenly something dangerous in his voice.

Then at once he kicked the field bed with so much force that that one of the legs of the bed broke. The field bed crashed to the floor. Disbelievingly Peter looked from the broken bed to Harvey.

“Harvey, man. Do you have to start torturing him on his first night?” It was the third boy, whose name Peter didn’t know yet.

“What’s happening?” a small voice asked. The fourth boy sat up in his bed. He was younger than the rest, maybe around twelve. Big brown eyes looked around in the room in confusion. The three other boys ignored the youngest.

“He is only here temporarily anyway. He can sleep on the floor,” Harvey decided.

“Dude, you are an asshole, you know that?” The third boy said back.

“You want to sleep on the floor, too, Pablo? Because I can certainly make you,” Harvey threatened.

“Chill, man. I don’t care. I just want to sleep. I have this bitch-ass history exam tomorrow. I need at least a C,” Pablo argued back, “I don’t want to go to summer school.”

“What’s happening?” the youngest boy asked again.

“Shut up, Trevor. Go back to sleep,” Phil snapped at the child. Little Trevor only nodded and disappeared under his blanket again.

Harvey returned his gaze at Peter again. “Let’s all go to sleep then. You still want a T-Shirt, Petey? Because my guess is that it will be a bit cold on the floor only in a T-Shirt.”

“No, it’s, uh, fine,” Peter mumbled. Harvey grinned at him satisfied.

“Good night, boys. See you in the morning,” Harvey said. He turned the light off and climbed up his bunk bed.

Peter was standing in the dark for a few more minutes. He was stunned. What did just happen? Did Harvey just break his bed for no reason? He didn’t even know Peter. He didn’t even know that Peter was a nerd and always seemed to do the wrong things in any social situation.

At some point Peter took his blanket and lied down on it. The floor was cold, the rubber floor barely offered any insulation against the cold. Peter was turning around trying to find a position which was comfortable enough to sleep. But the floor was hard, and the room was cold. He looked up at the windows, which were open. He could close them and get a bit warmer, but somehow Peter just didn’t want to get up anymore.

Peter fumbled for his phone in his pocket. He put the battery back in and started the phone. As soon as it was on, the phone blinked a few times. There were ten missed calls from Mr. Stark and a dozen messages from the man.

Peter scrolled through them. Most of them just asked him to pick up his damn phone. Peter stopped at one particular message and read it twice.

“ _Kid, I’m a billionaire. I could have paid for your field trip. Why didn’t you tell me?”_

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. Would it be just so easy to tell the man? What would Mr. Stark do, if he learned about Peter’s situation? Would he come? Somehow get him out of here? Peter could stay at the compound; he doesn’t need much space and he could be very quiet. He wouldn’t bother Mr. Stark. The man could let a self-driving car bring Peter to school.  The man wouldn’t even notice that Peter was there. Peter looked at the clock. It was morning in Poland already.

“ _Mr. Stark, when you are up, can you call me?”_ Peter messaged the man.

“ _I’m up, but Rhodey just had seizure an hour ago. I’m trying to get him better doctors. I will call you, when I’m back in New York. Then we will talk,”_ Mr. Stark answered. Peter gulped. Peter had a million follow up questions. Was Mr. Rhodes alright?  How bad was the seizure? When was Mr. Stark coming back?

Tears trickled down his cheek. He just wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted to be in their apartment with May and eat burned Lasagna. He wanted Ben to come home after a long day of work, ruffle his hair and sit down on the couch next to both of them, eat the Lasagna as if it was the best thing he ever had and tell them that he was the happiest man on the planet. He wanted May to roll her eyes at that and tell him that she would also be the happiest woman on the planet if Ben would just do the dishes once. Peter wanted to be the boy with glasses again, that naïve little boy, whose worst problems and fears had been a bully named Flash and PE class. No rogue Avengers, no Mr. Stark, no Vulture guys, no cancer, no invisible Hydra super-soldiers, no shelter, no group home.

Peter gulped. “ _Sorry, Mr. Stark. But can we talk now? I know you are really angry at me, but I need somebody to help me. May has cancer and I don’t know what to do. I don’t have anybody else to ask, please,”_ Peter wrote, but he hadn’t sent it yet. His thumb hovered over the send button. His vision got blurry as tears filled his eyes. What if Mr. Stark wouldn’t understand? What if he told him that Peter was fine just where he was? What if the man rejected him?

“Stop sniffing like a baby and turn off that fucking phone,” Harvey barked from his bed, “I can’t sleep because of the light.”

Startled Peter almost dropped his phone. “Sorry,” he whispered and quickly deleted the message before turning his phone off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually supposed to be part of the chapter before. But then I decided to split it in two since my chapter are always around 2000 words. Thank you for all your lovely comments.  
> Next chapter will follow soon.


	14. Chapter 14

“How can a person look more than a kicked puppy than an actual kicked puppy?” Bobby questioned, two pizza boxes in his hand. It was Friday noon, Peter’s last day in the senior class. On Monday his classmates would return from their fieldtrip and at least Peter’s school days would go back to normal.  Peter had already spent two night in the group home, but he had barely been there during the day. After school Mr. Williams had helped him pick up his things in the shelter and afterwards agreed to give him a ride to the hospital. May had been awake, but they only had a very one-sided conversation as she was still breathing through a ventilator. Peter had spent the whole day in the hospital. Mrs. Davis had been angry with him because he had missed dinner at the group home, but she was understanding. She had made him a sandwich before sending him to bad.

Peter was sitting in the corner of the cafeteria. There was no food served in the school as most of the students were at field trips. Most of the senior students had just ordered things from the outside. The room was filled with smells of cheap Chinese noodles, greasy pizza and one-dollar burgers. Peter of course didn’t have the money to order anything and he hadn’t mustered enough courage to ask Mrs. Davis for a lunch box after she already had made him extra dinner the day before. Thus, instead of eating lunch Peter was just sitting in the school cafeteria pretending to read a book.

“What do you want, Bobby?” Peter asked.

“You didn’t have lunch yesterday, either,” Bobby pointed out, “I thought maybe you would like some pizza.” The older teenager put the pizza box in front of Peter.

Peter frowned. “Why?”

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. “Mr. Cobbwell gave me an A+ for our chemistry project. It’s a thank you.”

“You would have gotten an A+ with or without me,” Peter argued.

As an answer Bobby just opened the pizza box. “Eat, Parker,” he told the teenager.

For a moment Peter wanted to protest. To tell Bobby that he would never accept something what was bought with drug money. But then Peter’s stomach rumbled. Peter realized that he was indeed very hungry, and he cursed his super-metabolism. The group home wouldn’t have dinner until seven. That was hours away. It was a simple Margarita, but it looked delicious to Peter.

“Uh, thanks,” Peter muttered and took out one piece. Bobby had a winning grin plastered on his face and sat down opposite site of the boy. He opened his own pizza box and started eating.

“So, what’s up with you, Parker?” Bobby started. He took a bite from his own pizza, but his eyes were fixed on Peter.

“Nothing. My class is coming back on Monday, so that’s nice,” Peter answered, but the other boy just frowned. He stopped eating for a second and just kept watching Peter. Uncomfortably, Peter looked down on his food.

“Something happened, Parker. You didn’t come to school on Wednesday and yesterday I think you haven’t said a single word to anyone the whole day. Not even in class. You look like you haven’t slept in days and you are pale as ghost. So, what’s up?” Bobby wanted to know.

“We aren’t friends, Austen. Mind your own business,” Peter replied. But Bobby was unmoved by Peter’s rudeness.

“How is your aunt? Bad news?” Bobby asked. His voice was unusual gentle.

Peter clenched his teeth and just shook his head. Bobby glared at him for a few more seconds, but then the other boy’s shoulder’s sank and he just sighed.

“I know it’s tough, Peter,” Bobby told him, “If you ever need to talk to somebody, I’m here. I mean everybody’s shit is different, but I think I know how you feel. I’ve been there.”

Peter took another bite from his pizza. It wasn’t a great pizza. The dough was too sweet and the chees too fat.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Peter said.

Bobby gave him a smile and silently continued to eat his own pizza, which looked even more fat than Peter’s. Dubious salami slices were swimming in their own fat.

 “Have you ever lived in a group home?” Peter surprised even himself  by suddenly asking. Bobby furrowed his brows.

“No.”

“Good. Because it’s shit,” Peter told the other teenager, “My aunt got operated on Wednesday. I have to stay in the group home until she gets out of the hospital.”

Peter wasn’t sure why he was sharing this information with Bobby, while he hadn’t managed to talk to Mr. Stark or Ned or anybody else for that matter about his situation. Maybe it was easier to talk to Bobby because the other boy had been through something similar. Or maybe it was just that Peter didn’t care what Bobby thought about him. Or maybe Bobby was just the first one to actually ask, how Peter was.

“That won’t be too long,” Bobby tried to comfort him, “My mum stayed in the hospital for a week. She got her whole breast removed. You will survive one or two weeks in a group home.”

“It will be longer than that. Everybody it is telling me it’s only temporary, but I’ve heard the social workers talking. I can’t go back to my aunt until she has recovered and has an apartment again,” Peter elaborated.

Bobby’s eyes widened. “Peter…are you guys homeless?”

Peter shrugged. “I guess. Technically. We lived in a shelter for a few weeks. It wasn’t all that bad.”

 Bobby dropped his piece of pizza and grimaced as if it tasted bitter. Peter could tell that the other boy had just lost his appetite.

“I’m sorry, man,” Bobby said, “That sucks.”

Again, Peter just shrugged his shoulder.

“My uncle called it Parker luck,” Peter said jokingly, but Bobby’s face remained awfully serious.

The older teenager stared at his food without eating it.

“Hey, you want to go to my place after school? We can work on my chemistry project, if you want. Or play videogames or whatever,” Bobby suddenly offered.

Bobby was a drug dealer. His job hurt people. He couldn’t be Peter’s friend. Peter was Spider-Man for god’s sake. But Bobby was also kind of nice. Nicer than the group home anyway. And some part of Peter just couldn’t deal with being alone anymore.

“I want to visit my aunt in the hospital, but afterwards would be cool,” Peter answered.

 

* * *

 

They have worked for a few hours on Bobby’s chemistry project. Bobby’s aim was to create strong pain medication without addiction as a side effect. The older teenager had spent two hours explaining Peter, what he had researched so far and how he planned on continuing. Then Peter shared his ideas how to continue, while Bobby listened.

It had been fun and a distraction. It was already late and about to miss dinner at the group home, but Bobby just ordered some take-outs. Peter didn’t mind staying, even though he knew that he was breaking the rules of the group home by not coming home on time. He saw Mrs. Davis number calling him a few times, but Peter just ignored her.

There was a knock on the door. Bobby glanced at his wristwatch. “That was fast. Come on, Peter. Food is here, let’s take a break.”

They both walked into the living room. Just seconds before Bobby opened the door, Peter’s spider-sense warned him of danger. He wanted to tell Bobby not to open, but it was already too late. It wasn’t a delivery person standing in the door frame, but a tall man in his early thirties accompanied by two other men whose bulky muscles almost looked unnatural.

“Robert, child,” The man said. He kissed Bobby’s cheeks left and right, but Peter could see how every muscle in Bobby’s body tensed, when the man touched him. The man was dressed in black suit with a black shirt. The only thing breaking his dark, elegant color pattern was golden chain hanging from his neck.

“What… what do you want, Alex?”  Bobby asked, “I dropped this week’s earnings, where you wrote me.”

Alex ignored the teenager’s questioned and waltzed into the apartment like he owned it. His henchmen followed him into the flat. Alex glanced at Peter for a second, but quickly turned his stare back at Bobby. Peter gulped as he realized who that man was. He was the drug dealer who sold the pills to Bobby. It was obvious that Bobby was scared of him. It was the same drug dealer, who had ordered his henchmen to mug Peter and also mug his aunt and break her arm.

“How is mommy dearest?” The man wanted to know.

Bobby paled a bit and clenched his fists. “Haven’t seen her in a week,” Bobby muttered and turned his gaze towards the floor. Surprised Peter looked at Bobby. What was wrong with Bobby’s mom? Suddenly Peter felt bad for not having asked the other boy before.

The man hummed as if it was the answer he had expected. He threw some books which were on the couch to the floor before sitting down on the old squeezy couch.

“You should maybe check out Hunts Point. I’ve heard she is hanging out on a motel on Halleck St,” Alex told the teenager.

“How… you told me you wouldn’t sell her anything anymore,” Bobby muttered. Alex shrugged his shoulders. “Get me something to drink, Robert,” he then ordered.

For a second Peter thought that Bobby would protest, but then the boy asked obeying, “Would a beer be alright?”

“Get me something stronger. It’s Friday after all.”

Bobby nodded and disappeared in the kitchen for a second. When he came back, he placed a few shot glasses and a bottle of vodka in front of the man. The man filled the shot glasses and gestured to his henchmen and Bobby to take a shot glass as well. Peter was taking a few steps back, obviously he wasn’t part of whatever was happening right now. He would have left, but he somehow didn’t dare too move. The drug dealer was ignoring him, and Peter was happy if it stayed that way.

Alex raised the glass in a cheering motion and all of them empty the shots. Immediately Alex refilled the glasses.

“Have you been sick this week, Robert?” Alex asked suddenly.

“What… no. I’m fine,” Bobby stuttered.

“Yeah? Can you explain why this week’s sells haven’t even been ten percent of what they usually are? Teenagers suddenly aren’t interested in my product anymore? What’s your excuse?”

“I… it’s field trip week in my school.  Nobody was there except for senior students and they don’t buy as much because we have exams soon,” Bobby answered the man. Alex furrowed his brows as if he tried to figure out if the teenager told the truth. Then the man’s expression relaxed, apparently accepting Bobby’s explanation. He raised his shot glass again. Bobby and the henchmen followed his example and finished their second shots as well.

“Who’s your guest? He is awfully quiet,” Alex commented without turning towards Peter.

“He was actually just about to leave,” Bobby said and gave Peter a warning look.

“He doesn’t look like a senior student. Why isn’t he on a field trip?” Alex asked. How did the man guess that he was also a student from Midtown tech? But then Peter realized that he was wearing the school’s sweater. Peter gulped.

“He couldn’t pay for the field trip,” Bobby quickly answered with the truth before Alex would grow any other suspicions. Alex turned around and studied Peter for a few seconds. His eyes landed on Peter’s shoes, which were getting increasingly worn out. The drug dealer nodded. He believed Bobby.

“Wait,” suddenly one of the henchmen said and nodded toward Peter, “that’s the fucker who broke my nose.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. He looked at Peter and then turned to his henchmen with a grin.

“It’s the kid who took money from Bob. You remember? You ordered us to threaten him and his mother,” the henchman elaborated.

Alex just started chuckling amused. “You weight thrice as much as that kid. How could he have possibly broken your nose?”

The henchman blushed. “The kid has a mean right fist.”

Alex just continued grinning.  Peter felt himself tense. He didn’t want to attract the drug dealer’s attention.

“Robert, where are your manners. Why don’t you bring a glass for your guest, too?”

Bobby froze. “Alex, he’s fifteen.”

“And?” the drug dealer questioned.

“He was about to go. Don’t make him drink. Please,” Bobby begged the man, but apparently begging was nothing Alex reacted favorably to.

“I do whatever I fucking want, Robert. Now bring the kid a glass. Kid, come sit with me.”

Startled Peter looked at the drug dealer and then at Bobby.           

“Do what he wants, Peter,” the other teenager told him in a low, resigned voice, “I will get another a glass.”

Slowly Peter walked towards the coach and sat down on it the furthest away from the man. His throat felt dry. Of course, Peter had super-strength, but that didn’t lessen his fear. Right now, Peter was just Peter Parker and not Spider-Man. Chances were, that they all had guns and even Spider-Man wasn’t bullet proof. Alex was clearly enjoying the obvious fear that vibrated from younger teenager.

“It was your aunt, wasn’t it? You live with your aunt?” The drug dealer remembered, “She was sick or something.”

“Cancer,” the other henchman informed the drug dealer.

Alex nodded; his face suddenly serious, “Cancer. My uncle had cancer. Lung cancer. Took him three years to die. Stubborn bastard didn’t even stop smoking on his death bed.”

Bobby returned with a glass and gave it to Alex. Bobby’s hands were shaking slightly. “I… I didn’t have anymore shot glasses,” Bobby apologized.

Alex only nodded. He filled the glass up. It was half full. Clearly much more than a shot.

He held the glass out towards Peter. Hesitantly Peter took it and tried not to grimace as he smelled the cheap alcohol. Bobby looked at Peter with apologetic and in the same time pitying eyes.

“Drink, kid,” Alex said. He watched as Peter put the glass to his lips. Peter took a sip and suppressed the urge to spit the liquid out again. It burnt in his throat. He put the glass down again.

“Drink all of it,” Alex ordered.

“Alex, it’s too much,” Bobby protested, some panic was in his voice, but Alex just gave him a warning stare.

“Drink all of it, boy,” the man repeated.

Peter didn’t know what would happen if he denied the man his request. It took Peter about a minute before he managed to finish the whole glass. The taste was awful, but Peter didn’t feel any effect. Peter knew that it would probably take some time for the alcohol to kick in, but right now he felt fine.

There was another knock on the door. It startled Bobby at first, but then the other teenager remembered.

“We had ordered food before,” Bobby explained.

“Great, I’m hungry,” Alex said. “Go get it, Robert.”

Bobby answered the door, paid the delivery guy and then put the two Chinese noddle dishes they had ordered at the table. Satisfied Alex took one of the boxes and hold out the other to Peter.

“Eat, it’s bad to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Cancer is a bitch,” Alex continued their previous conversation. Hesitantly Peter started to eat the noodles, when Alex give his box another nudge. “Can also be very expensive,” he said as he opened the other noodle box and split his chopsticks in two.

Peter didn’t say anything. Bobby’s expression deepen with worry.

“You know, Bobby boy over there will graduate after this school year. But those Midtown brats pay any price I put on my product. What do you think? Do you want to be Robert’s successor?” Alex asked him, “You look like you could use some cash.”

Peter gulped. When he didn’t answer, Alex filled his glass with vodka again. It was even fuller this time.

“Drink,” Alex ordered a second time.

“Peter, don’t,” Bobby tried to intervene again, but Alex only shot him an angry glance.

Peter drank the glass, gulping bile down as his stomach protested. Alex smiled satisfied after Peter finished.

“A few hundred extra per month would be nice, wouldn’t it, Peter?” Alex said, “You could pay for a better doctor for your aunt. Or buy her nice clothes and all the food the two of you want. You look a bit skinny; I hope you two aren’t starving.”

“We are fine,” Peter mustered the courage to answer.

Alex grinned. He stood up again and stretched. “Think about it, Peter. Food, new clothes, maybe a Playstation. They say money can’t buy happiness, but that’s what they tell poor motherfuckers like you,” Alex told him, “Anyway boys, I still have to work. Robert, we will be in touch. Peter, I hope to see you again.”

 And as suddenly as the drug dealer had appeared in the flat, they also disappeared again. Alex left the almost completely uneaten China noodles behind but took the rest of the vodka bottle with him. For no apparent reason he kicked a book, which was on the floor. One of the henchman spat against the carpet, before they finally closed the door behind them.

Bobby breathed out loudly as if he had held his breath the whole time the drug dealer had been there. Then he turned to Peter.

“Go in the bathroom and try to puke the vodka out. He gave you enough to give you alcohol poisoning,” Bobby said.

“I feel fine,” Peter argued, but Bobby just laughed.

“Yeah. For now. Believe me it will be a different story in half an hour.”

Peter suspected that alcohol didn’t affect him at all thanks to his super-metabolism, but it was reasonable not try it out at this moment. He went to the bathroom and tried to get himself to puke. It wasn’t as easy as one would think and after some struggle he gave up. He drank some water and noticed that he was shaking. Peter was scared. Spider-Man was scared of a drug dealer. He could have beaten all three men up easily. He could have called the police. Instead he had let the man force drink him almost two glasses of vodka. What would Mr. Stark think?

When he returned, Peter got startles as he saw Bobby. The teenager was sitting on his couch, tears running down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” he said as soon as he noticed Peter enter the room again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he would come today. But I could have guessed. I mean, I knew he would angry about the earnings this week, but I didn’t care. I _wanted_ to make him angry. But… but I didn’t want to pull you into this.”

“It’s fine,” Peter stammered, but Bobby just started crying more heavily. He put his hands into his face.

“You don’t understand, Peter. He will come after you. He knows who you are and that you go to Midtown. He knows that you are poor and in an impossible situation. Good, when he learns that you live in a fucking group home… He will take advantage of you.” Bobby explained. He tried to wipe his tears away, but they continued to stream down his cheek.

“It’s fine, Bobby. I would never agree to his offer. I could never… I could never do what you do,” Peter tried to calm the other boy. Bobby shook his head. Desperate eyes looked up to Peter.

“Do you think I agreed to his?” Bobby said between two sarcastic laughs. “He forced me, Peter. Alex forced me. My mom… my mom was his client. After the whole cancer thing. You know, she was on pretty heavy pain meds after her operation. And then the insurance company didn’t want to pay for the meds anymore. So, she started buying stuff on the street. She is a good mom, really. At least she was,” Bobby told his story stuttering, “I mean, I still love her, and she still loves me, I think. But she’s addicted, and she had some debts with Alex. Then I made a deal with him. I didn’t have a choice. He would have killed her or made her do things, you know. I didn’t have a choice.”

The boy’s eyes were begging Peter to understand.

“Please, I’m sorry,” Bobby repeated, “I’m sorry. I thought I could help you, but I just made a bigger mess.”

Peter went over to the couch and sat down. He put an arm around Bobby. “It’s okay,” Peter said, “It will be fine. It’s not your fault.”

Bobby pressed his face against Peter’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, man,” The boy muttered. Peter circled calmingly with his hand over the older teenager’s back.

Bobby was crying for half an hour longer, before he finally calmed down. Peter let Bobby cry against his shoulder, while he squeezed his shoulder from time to time.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter whispered a few times. But the more often he said the sentence the less he knew who he was talking to. Bobby or himself?

When Bobby had stopped crying, he suddenly stood up. Clumsily, he started to pick up the vodka glasses. Then he rasped his voice.

“How are you feeling, Peter. By now, you should feel the alcohol,” Bobby said. Peter tried standing up. There was no dizziness or blurriness. He felt fine.

“I don’t feel a thing,” he said. Bobby frowned. “That’s weird. Even if you managed to puke most of it out, your stomach would have absorbed something.”

“Uh, it’s a family thing,” Peter quickly explained, “We… can’t process alcohol. Never tried alcohol before, so wasn’t sure if I had the gene…”

“Weird,” Bobby said, “never heard of such a thing.”

“Yeah. It’s like super rare,” Peter continued to lie. Bobby didn’t seem too suspicious. The other teenager just shrugged his shoulder.

“Maybe you should get home. It’s late,” Bobby said. The older teenager was clearly getting uncomfortable.

“Yes, that’s right,” Peter agreed and glanced at the watch. It was already nine Mrs. Davis was going to kill him. He went to the door. He felt awkward to just leave.

“Uh, see you in school, Bobby,” Peter told the other boy.

“Yeah. See you… and thanks.”

Peter quickly rushed to the underground station and jumped into the next metro. It was Friday night and the train was full. There was a mix of tired people returning home after a stressful week and younger passengers, who clearly were getting ready to enjoy their night.

Nobody noticed Peter's delayed, silent panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, yeah. This feels kind of bitter. 
> 
> Anyway, of course thank you all for your comments and kudos. They are very encouraging.


	15. Chapter 15

It was Sunday afternoon in the group home. Peter was sitting in his room together with Trevor tutoring him in math. His other roommates Pablo and Harvey were also in the room lying on their beds, while Phil was porbably in the park around the corner. Pablo was listening to music while drawing some graffiti drafts, while Harvey was playing something on his phone mindlessly. As bad as Peter’s first night in the group home had been, Harvey had mostly just ignored him since Thursday and that was an honest relief. The other boys had seemed to follow Harvey’s example and also just ignored Peter. Only little Trevor talked to Peter. The kid was full of energy, talking quickly and bouncing around most of the times.

From his four roommates Trevor was the youngest. He was only twelve and had been in different homes ever since he had turned ten. His father had tried to rob a gas station and his mother was an addict. When Harvey had told him that the most reasons kids where here was because of drugs or prison, he hadn’t been wrong. There were barely any stories which didn’t involve either of the two things in some way. Peter also noticed the jealousy written in the younger children’s faces when he told them, that he was only there temporarily and that his aunt was in fact a good parent.

He and Trevor were working the younger boy’s math homework. Apparently, Trevor struggled with math (and with any other subject for that matter), and Mrs. Davis had asked if anybody of the older boys would help him. The other boys had all grunted an impolite no, but Peter had eagerly agreed. He had given tutoring lessons before and Peter genuinely enjoyed teaching younger children. Trevor was also a good student. He seemed to love the little extra attention he got from Peter. And maybe Peter also just needed something to distract him.

“Wait, I think I get it,” Trevor said excitedly. “50 percent is the same as 1/2. And 60 percent is like 3/5. Oh, oh, I know this one, too, 25 percent is like ¼.”

Peter smiled. “You see, you are good at math. You just have to try,” Peter encouraged the younger boy. Dark eyes paired with some cute dimples looked up at him. “Yes, I think I like math now,” Trevor claimed. Peter chuckled.

“You know, if you help me like every day,” Trevor continued, “Maybe I can get like really good at school.”

“I will help you. But you don’t need me. If you just work hard, you will be able to do anything.”

Trevor grinned widely. His teeth were crooked. His left corner tooth grew sidewise into the front teeth. It was obvious that the boy needed braces, but somehow Trevor’s smile still was adorable. Peter give him a grin back and ruffled the younger boy’s hair.

“Maybe I will be the first one in my family to finish high school!” Trevor said enthusiastically, but Peter’s smile only froze at that. Not finishing high school had never been up to debate for Peter. It startled Peter how low the other boy’s aims were. Trevor wasn’t exactly stupid. And the thought that just some shitty circumstances would one day force the boy to drop out of high school, terrified Peter.

“If you work hard,” Peter told the boy, “You can even go to college. They give scholarship to good students.”

Now it was Trevor’s smile that disappeared. Wide eyes glanced at Peter with the kind of wonder that only children’s eyes could have.

“Really? You think I would be smart enough?” Trevor wanted to now.

“Definitely. You just need to study hard,” Peter confirmed and squeezed the kid’s shoulder.

Then suddenly Harvey jumped from his bunk bed.

“Yeah, Trevor,” Harvey said in a mocking tone, “They give free scholarships to fuckups like you. Also, this year Santa will finally bring you the xbox you wanted. Oh, yeah and I forgot. Your mommy is getting clean.”

Trevor’s face immediately got plastered with horror and fear. His bottom lip started trembling. While Trevor slumped back in his chair in defeat, anger grew in Peter. He stood up from his chair and stood protectively in front of the younger boy.

“Leave him alone, Harvey,” Peter said to the teenager, but Harvey just glanced back at him angrily.

“Maybe _you_ should leave him alone, Parker,” Harvey argued back, “Why are you telling him lies? Trevor will fuck up just like the rest of his family. And if he doesn’t fuck up and life will fuck him up.”

“I’m not telling him lies. He _can_ finish Highschool and even go to college if he wants to,” Peter fought back, but Harvey just scoffed.

“Nobody in this room will ever set a foot into college,” Harvey told him, “Well, maybe as a janitor.” And then laughed about his own joke.

“Don’t listen to him, Trevor. I’ve got a scholarship to Midtech. I’m not rich or anything, but you can achieve anything, you just need to work hard,” Peter said to the younger boy.

Harvey just shoved Peter to the side and grabbed Trevor’s schoolwork.

“ _This_ won’t bring you anywhere,” Harvey declared with the exercise book in his hand. He wanted to tear it apart, but just in time Peter stopped him. He had one of Harvey’s arms in a tight grip.

“Leave Trevor alone, Harvey,” Peter insisted in a warning tone.

“Fuck off,” Harvey spat back. He tried to free himself, but his efforts were fruitless.

Then Harvey tried to punch Peter, but Peter dodged his fist easily. Peter could see the anger boiling in the other boy.

“You think you are better than us, huh Parker?” Harvey shouted, “But I will tell you a secret, you are screwed just like the rest of us.”

Harvey tried to hit him another timer, but again he missed.

“Temporary my ass. I’ve heard Linda and Dan talk about you yesterday. You will be here longer than two weeks. They talked about up to a year.”

Peter gulped. Up to a year? It was weeks at first, then they had talked about months. But a year?

“You know why you are here, Parker? Why any of us are here?” Harvey continued, “Because nobody wants us.”

Trevor started crying loudly behind Peter.

“No mommy, no daddy. No friends, no neighbor,” Harvey elaborated, “The only thing you have is an aunt who is sick with cancer. What happens if she dies?”

Peter wished to tell Harvey that it wasn’t true. That there were people who wanted him. The teenage super-hero gritted his teeth. But he was alone. If May died…

Then there was a scream. In horror Peter realized that he had squeezed Harvey’s wrist he had still been holding. Peter let go of the other boy. Pain was written in the other boy’s face. Harvey slumped down on the floor, clutching his wrist against his breast.

Pablo was suddenly at Harvey’s side. He gently took Harvey’s arm and took a look at the boy’s wrist. The wrist was swollen and there was a lump where it shouldn’t be. Peter had just broken the older teenager’s wrist. Pablo looked confused from Harvey to Peter.

“Let’s go to Linda, Harv. This looks bad.” Silent tears were now running down the older teenagers face. He just nodded and let Pablo help him stand up.

 

* * *

 It was one o’clock at night, when Harvey and Linda finally returned to the home. Harvey looked exhausted. There was a thick white cast around his left arm.

“Alright, Harvey, there we are,” Linda said as both of them entered the room of the five boys. “No school for you tomorrow. And when you are in too much pain don’t hesitate to knock on my door. I will give you one more of those pain killers your doctor prescribed.”

Harvey just nodded. He lied down on his bed.

“Get changed, Harvey,” Linda said strictly. “I know it has been a long evening, but you can’t sleep in those clothes.”

Harvey nodded and Linda just sighed. Then she turned around and looked at Peter who was sitting on his field bed. He had repaired the bed the day before and it was relatively stable again.

“Peter, I need to talk to you. Let’s go to my office. It will be quick,” Linda told him.

Nervously Peter stood up. “Yeah… sure,” he said.

Linda lead the way. Her office was on the ground floor. It was the smallest room in the house, and it was cluttered. Linda seemed like a neat person, but her office was a mess. Peter guessed that the cause was a lack of time for cleaning up. It was clear to Peter, that the group home had not enough social workers. Beside Linda there were two more workers who changed shifts. But eleven children were a lot and there needed to be at least two people present at all time.

“Peter,” Linda started as soon as they entered the office, “Harvey and Pablo told me what happened. I know you are still adjusting. I understand that it can be difficult, but we don’t tolerate violence.”

“I’m sorry, Linda… I didn’t mean to…”

Linda sighed. She seemed tired too. They had spent at least eight hours in the hospital. “Peter you crushed his wrist. That doesn’t just happen. I know you are angry with everything that is happening, but you need to control yourself better.”

Peter shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t know. Ever since… puberty I underestimate how strong I am.”

Linda gave him a sad smile. “I know everything must be confusing for you. That’s why I will only give you a warning today. A warning and you are responsible for the dishwasher for the next week. Does that sound fair to you?”

Peter nodded.

“Good, then you can go back to sleep now. Good night, Peter.”

“Good night, Mrs. Davis…Linda. Linda, I mean. Good night, Linda.”

 

* * *

 

Peter couldn’t exactly say that he was excited about going to school on Monday. His class was returning from their field trip and most of them would probably talk about nothing else but the field trip for the rest of the week. That’s why he arrived later than usual to school. He would have been late, but apparently so was his Mrs. Warren, their first teacher today. There was exciting chatter in the room and Peter took a deep breath before entering the classroom. At first nobody noticed him. Then suddenly, all eyes turned to him. The class went silent. Confused Peter looked around, half expecting the teacher to behind him, but the class was looking at him, there was no teacher anywhere close.

“Hey, Peter,” Ned stuttered from the back of the class.

“Yeah, hi, Peter,” another classmate of him muttered.

“We’ve missed you on the trip,” Betty from his Decathlon Team added.

Then suddenly somebody patted his back. Peter almost flinched away. He wasn’t used to a lot of attention from people other than Ned. But suddenly there were a lot of friendly greetings and a lot of pats on his shoulder. Confused Peter walked to the back of the class and sat down next to Ned.

“What’s going on?” he asked his friend.

Ned blushed. “Nothing, dude. We just missed you on the trip.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. But before he could express his doubts, Mrs. Warren entered the classroom.

“Good morning class,” Mrs. Warren greeted them, “I know it hard to start studying again after a field trip. That’s why the next half hour we will talk about the field trip. Afterwards I expect everyone’s full attention on physics. Is that a deal?”

There were a lot of happy nods in the class. Peter sank into his chair. He had expected something like this. But he still had wished that Mrs. Warren would have just started with her lesson normally.

“So, who wants to start? What was good? What was bad about the trip?” Mrs. Warren asked into the room.

Betty was to first raise her hand.

“Yes, Betty?” Mrs. Warren asked.

“Can we maybe first give Peter his gift?” she asked. Startled Peter straightened in his seat. _What?_

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Warren answered. She looked at Peter with a soft smile. Everybody else’s faces turned towards Peter as well.

Betty pulled out a present wrapped in dark blue paper. She walked to Peter’s table and placed it in front of him

“Since you couldn’t make it to the field trip,” Mrs. Warren explained, “Your classmates thought to buy you something.”

Peter felt blood rushing to his face, “That’s nice. Thank you, guys,” Peter said.

“Come on, unpack it already,” somebody in his class yelled.

Hesitantly, Peter started opening it. There first thing was a NASA sweater. It was dark blue and the organization’s symbol was printed on the front. It looked fluffy and warm.

“Thank you,” Peter said, “That’s super cool.”

“There is more,” Betty said.

Peter looked at the second present. It was a backpack. It was also dark blue and the NASA logo was printed on front. If it was even possible Peter turned redder. Has everybody in his class noticed that he didn’t have a backpack? Did they all know that he just couldn’t afford one? While Peter had thought that the sweater was genuinely nice, the second present made him feel… embarrassed. He didn’t want a present out of pity.

“Thanks, guys,” Peter said anyway, his voice a pitch to high, “That’s great. Both presents are awesome. Thank you. It’s like really nice of you. I didn’t expect anything…”

Betty who was still standing in front of his table smiled widely.

“Yes, of course, Peter,” she said softly, “We missed you on the trip.”

Peter smiled back at her shyly. “I missed you too, guys.”

“I hope your aunt feels better soon,” Betty then added. At that Peter froze.

“What?” he asked dumbfounded.

“Ned told us your aunt has cancer. We are very sorry,” Betty explained.

Peter felt his throat tighten. He turned to Ned, who looked back at him guiltily. How could Ned have told them about May? Peter hadn’t wanted them to know. Peter didn’t want pity. But that was what he had just gotten. He looked at the presents on his table. The sweater looked expensive. The material was thick. The backpack had a bottom out of what looked like real leather. They must have spent like hundred dollars.

He didn’t want pity. But there were twenty people looking at him with commiserative smiles. 

Peter bolted out of the class, ignoring his classmate’s surprised calls after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear Tony will appear soon(-ish). I mean Peter's situation can't get much worse, can it?  
> I will probably update soon. I have to study for an exam on Monday, but afterwards I guess I will finish the next chapter.  
> Have a great weekend!


	16. Chapter 16

“Peter, I’m sorry.” Guiltily, Ned was standing in the doorway of the boy’s toilets room. Peter was splashing some water into his face trying to cover up the fact that he had just cried.

“Here, Mrs. Warren gave us both a hallway pass,” Ned told him. His friend slowly approached him and put the wooden board that severed as a hallway pass next to the sink.

“Thanks,” Peter muttered and took some paper towels to dry off his face.

“I’m really sorry, Peter,” Ned repeated, “It’s just… On the field trip, Flash had been saying crap about you again and it just slipped out. I… I don’t know. I was just surprised to learn about May from my mom. My mom. And I was thinking about it the whole time, and then I heard Flash talk about how you are just trying to get attention all the time…”

Peter took a deep breath. “Flash talks crap about me all the time. We just ignore it. That’s how we have always dealt with.”

“Yeah, I mean… But Peter, why didn’t you tell me about the cancer?” Ned asked in almost inaudible.

“Because… It’s none of your business,” Peter answered, but he knew that was a lie. He knew that he should have told Ned weeks ago. But he just didn’t know how to talk about it. It was so much easier to just pretend that everything was fine.

“Dude, you are my best friend. Of course, it’s my business. I mean, I like May too, you know,” Ned replied.

“Why would I tell you, if the first thing you do is tell it to everybody in the class,” Peter argued back.

“It slipped out. I know I shouldn’t have said anything…” Ned apologized again, but Peter felt just betrayed. He hadn’t told anybody for a reason. Still, everybody learned about May’s cancer. As if it wasn’t enough to be Midtown’s orphan boy with an uncle that got shot. Now he was Midtown’s orphan boy with a murdered uncle and a cancer sick aunt.

“Yeah, so next time when Flash bullies me, you will tell everybody that I’m Spider-Man?” Peter questioned.

“Dude, no. Never. I would never tell anybody about that,” Ned protested.

“You know, I’m just surprised. How come that you can’t keep my secrets, but you are fairly capable of protecting your own little lies,” Peter argued.

Confused Ned blinked at him.

“What are you talking about?” The other boy wanted to know.

“You never told your mom what happened at the party. She thinks that I was the one who seduced you to drinking,” Peter told his friend.

There was some honest surprise on his friend’s face. “What does that have to do with anything? I mean… you know my mom. I couldn’t tell her the truth.”

Peter’s eyes filled with tears again. “Yeah? She thinks I’m some sort of teenage delinquent. Good, I didn’t go to the stupid party because I was working, Ned. To buy food for me and May. And then I pick you up and your mom blames everything on me.”

There was guilt mixed with confusion on Ned’s face.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I will tell my mom what happened. I didn’t know it bothered you so much…” Ned told his friend.

“It doesn’t matter now anymore,” Peter said to the other boy in defeat.

“What are you talking about?” Ned wanted to know.

“May asked your mom if I could stay with you guys while she is in the hospital. Your mom told her no,” Peter informed his friend.

“Wait… what…?” Ned asked, “That’s bullshit. Of course, you can stay with us. My mom would never… Wait, are you staying on your own right now?”

Peter didn’t answer anything. Instead he walked towards the bathroom door. “Wait, Peter,” Ned insisted, “Where are you staying?”

“None of your business,” Peter barked back.

“Wait,” Ned grabbed Peter’s arm to stop him leaving.

“What?” Peter shouted at his friend.

“I… I’m sorry.”

Again, Peter tried to leave, but Ned just grabbed his wrist harder. Then before realizing what he was doing Peter pushed Ned away. The bigger boy stumbled and with fell backwards. His head hit the bathroom sink.

 

* * *

 Nervously Peter was sitting in Mrs. Davis office fidgeting with the polyester cover of the chair’s arm rest. It was still morning; Mrs. Davis had just brought him home. She had told him to wait in her office, while she had check up on Harvey, who was staying at home after breaking his wrist the day before. Peter looked at the clock, watching as the seconds slowly moved.

Half a minute. Peter could have killed Ned. For the most horrifying thirty seconds in Peter’s life Ned had been unconscious. He hadn’t responded to Peter’s begging to please wake up.  Peter must have had another panic attack, because the next thing he knew was that a teacher was trying to calm him down.

Forty minutes later there had been long discussions with Mrs. Leeds and Mrs. Davis in the principal offices. Peter wasn’t supposed to listen to the discussion, but he couldn’t help his super-hearing. There had been a lot of talk about Peter being a good kid in a terrible situation. But the sentence ‘actions should have consequences’ had also been thrown around a lot. It still had seemed that his punishment was going to be mild, until yesterday evening’s incident with Harvey was mentioned. Suddenly all three adults had agreed that it was in Peter’s best interest to suspend him. Nobody mentioned that a suspension almost always went a long with the loss of a scholarship.

But couldn't feel himself angry. Why would Peter even deserve a scholarship?  After all he had hurt so many people. And now even Ned, his best friend.

Mrs. Davis entered her office. The day had only started, but she seemed tired. She slumbed down on her chair, which squeaked dangerously.

“Peter,” she immediately started, “when I agreed to let you stay here, I didn’t expect so much trouble.”

Peter gulped.

“I know that you are frustrated but just in the last 24 hours you broke someone’s wrist and beat another boy unconscious.”

“I didn’t beat him…” Peter protested, but Mrs. Davis didn’t let him talk.

“But you did punch that third kid a few weeks back, right? He got a concussion?” Mrs. Davis asked. She was talking about the incident with Flash, when Peter had gotten angry because Flash had first wasted his food and then insulted Ned.

“Yeah… but…” Peter tried to defend himself.

“No, buts. Anger issues are normal in your situation. Everything seems unfair. But you need to understand that a lot of people have difficult times in their lives. It will get better eventually. You need to learn deal with your frustration in other ways then violence.”

“You don’t understand… I didn’t want to hurt anybody…” Peter said. He cursed his super-powers. Nothing of those things would have happened if he was just normal. But that was no excuse. He should still control himself better.

“Principal Morita already told you that you will have to see the school therapist, but I want to emphasize how important it is that you talk to somebody, Peter,” Mrs. Davis demanded. Peter just nodded in defeat.

“Yes, Linda. And I’m sorry,” Peter muttered.

Mrs. Davis smiled shortly and then continued, “Good, the two weeks you are suspended I expect you to help the cleaning stuff in the morning and to help out with all the meals. I will also check if you are doing the assignments you get from school”

Again, Peter just nodded.

“Normally I would give you house arrest, but I don’t want you to stop working. I know you and your aunt depend on some extra money. Also, I will not stop you from visiting your aunt,” Mrs. Davis explained.

“Thank you, Linda.”

“Good,” she answered and paused for a moment. Then she told him, “And then there is another thing I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve checked your medical record and it seems you haven’t been to the doctor for two years now?”

Confused Peter furrowed his brows. “Well, I haven’t been sick…”

“I was thinking about giving you an appointment for a general check-up,” Mrs. Davis said.

“But I feel fine,” Peter argued back, trying to hide his panic. He couldn’t go to a doctor and risk that his identity got exposed.

“It’s a general check-up, it doesn’t have anything to do with being sick,” Mrs. Davis countered, “Besides I am actually a bit worried about your eating habits.”

“ _What?”_ Peter froze.

“We are on a budget, but I don’t want anybody in this house to stay hungry, so everybody can eat as much as they want…” She paused and Peter knew that she was feeling bad for whatever she was going to say, “but you eat _a lot._ It’s only been a weekend, but I couldn’t help but notice that you have sometimes more than three servings and you still grab a bag of potato chips afterwards.”

Peter blushed. He didn’t eat that much. Did he? And he only had third or fourth serving, when there were leftovers and nobody else seemed interested in them.

“Harvey eats a lot, too,” Peter argued back.

“Harvey sometimes eats a lot, but not for every single meal. And he is a lot bigger than you. Look, Peter. I’m not trying to criticize you here, but I’m a bit worried. You eat an insane amount of food and you are still far too thin and not very tall. I had enough teenage boys to know that even if you are growing you are eating abnormally much. You could have a thyroid hyperfunction, it has something to do with your hormone production and makes you lose weight even if you are eating. I had some kids with that before. Nothing really worrisome, but you should check it out,” Mrs. Davis elaborated.

“I… I’m just stress eating. I’m fine, really. I don’t need a doctor.”

Mrs. Davis sighed. “I couldn’t get you an appointment anytime soon. You have an appointment with the pediatrician one block away in six weeks. They said on the phone that as long as you feel good there is no urgency.”

“Six weeks? Uhm, how long am I going to stay here?” Peter asked, his throat was contracting painfully.

“Until your aunt is well enough to take care of you. That means probably until she can work again and rent an apartment. It’s only in your best interest, child.”

Again, Peter just nodded, trying to swallow whatever was making his throat feel so tight. Mrs. Davis seemed to recognize his inner struggles.

“Feel free to do whatever you want until dinner. I understand that everything had been tough on you.”

 

* * *

 When Peter entered the ICU, he panicked. In the room where his aunt had been just the morning before, was now lying an elderly man. A woman, who probably was his wife, was holding his hand.

“Who are you?” The woman asked, when she saw a startled looking Peter standing in the room.

Peter’s heart started racing. “Where…where is my aunt?” he stuttered. May wasn’t here. What happened? Why wasn’t May in the room anymore… No, no, no, no…

Suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder. Peter flinched and then turned around. It was a doctor, who looked strangely at him.

“My aunt… what happened to my aunt…” Peter muttered between. His breathing got difficult and a wave of dizziness hit him. He probably would have fallen, if the doctor hadn’t grabbed him by his arm and hold him upright.

“Breath, son,” The doctor told him, “You are alright. And so is your aunt. We just moved her out of the ICU”

A bit confused Peter blinked at the man. His heart was hammering so loud in his chest, that Peter had a hard time understanding what the man was saying. “We removed her ventilator. She is fine,” the doctor explained Peter.

“Now breath, son,” the doctor repeated. Then suddenly Peter found himself being pushed into a chair. The doctor kneeled in front of him and counting the beat of his pulse while looking at the clock behind the teenager.

He only let go of Peter’s wrist, when his pulse had calmed down. The doctor looked at him with worry.

“You have a lot of panic attacks, son?” The doctor wanted to know.

“I… no. Like… not that many… My aunt is fine?”

The doctor nodded, “Yes, you will have to ask one of the nurses about where she is. But she is fine.”

 

* * *

 Peter had almost done a flip, when he entered May’s new room. She was looking at him with a bright smile. She had been awake the days before as well, but she had always seemed dazed and the ventilator had prevented her from talking. The room was brighter than the one in the ICU. There was a second bed, unmade and cluttered with magazines, books and flowers, but the occupant was apparently away.

May’s place was much neater. There were only some humble orange flowers and a book on her nightstand.

“Peter, honey,” May greeted him, her voice was very raspy, “Come here.”

Peter quickly walked towards here and hugged her carefully, not wanting to hurt her. She on the other hand pressed him tightly against her chest.

“Why aren’t you in school?” May wanted to know. They were still hugging. May couldn’t have seen Peter’s guilty face.

“I… we’ve got a day off. There were like a lot of teacher’s sick,” Peter quickly lied.

“Huh,” May wondered, “You think that wouldn’t happen in a school as expensive as yours.”

“Yeah… right?” Peter muttered. After another minute they let go of their hug. Peter put his head in May’s lab, closing his eyes. He tried not to cry. May was slowly caressing his hair.

“Are you okay, honey?” May asked. “How… how is the group home? Are the people nice?”

Peter took a deep breath and tried to sound happy. He sat back on his chair again, straightening his back into a confident body posture. May should focus on herself and not worry about him. “Yeah, it’s good. I have like four roommates and they are all nice. Trevor is the youngest, I’m tutoring him in math. Uh, and there are Phil, Pablo and Harvey. They are my age. We played table tennis this weekend.”

Peter was almost not lying. He had been tutoring Trevor and the table tennis story was half-truth. Peter had watched as the other three boys had played tabled tennis in the backyard of the home.

“That’s great, Peter. I’m glad you get along with them. And the social workers?” May wanted to know.

“Oh, they are nice too. It’s really not too bad,” Peter said.

“You are my brave kid,” she told him.

 

* * *

Peter spent the next five hours with May. At some point they went to get lunch together in the hospital cafeteria. Peter generously also bought two cheesecakes, but May could barely eat two bites. Peter finished both cakes in the end but May seemed to enjoy watching Peter eat more than eating herself.

It was nice to hear May talk again, even though her voice was still raspy after being on the ventilator for a few days. Her cheeks redden as they laughed about silly things. May was wearing a headscarf again, hiding her bald head. Even though her skin was white, her eyes sunken and she had probably lost several pounds, she was still pretty. Some people age a lot when they get sick. May just seemed to have gotten more delicate.

It was afternoon, when May finally seemed to have gotten tired. Her eyes were only half open, when Peter and she returned to her hospital room. Her roommate, an elderly lady, was also back in the room sleeping on her bed.

“I guess you need to rest, May,” Peter said, “I will get going then.”

May yawned. “That might be a good idea. Come back tomorrow, hun.”

Peter nodded.

“Oh, wait. I almost forgot,” May suddenly said, “The Zhaos came visiting me yesterday afternoon. They receive a package for you, it arrived at our old apartment.”

Peter was pleasantly surprised that May got visited buy anybody besides him. He looked at the orange flowers on her nightstand and guessed that they also were from the Zhaos who lived at their old apartment little over two months already. May pulled out a little package. Peter didn’t even have to look at from who it was. It was a black package and the logo of Stark Industries was printed on the front.

“You told me Mr. Stark was angry at you?” May wanted to know.

Peter blushed. “I… I don’t know.”

“Have you talked to him last week?” May questioned further.

“No… he’s still in Poland,” Peter answered and noticed too late that he had slipped up.

“Poland?” May asked slightly surprised.

“Uh, yeah. He went to Poland after the science convention. Business trip.”

May just nodded, accepting the answer without second thoughts. “Come on, open it. The package was here the whole day now and I’m curious.”

Peter hesitated. What if it was something Spider-Man related?

There was a card attached to the package. Peter read it. _Good work, kid. I barely had to change anything, I just pimped them up a bit. T.S._

It took Peter a moment to realize what Mr. Stark could have meant, until Peter remembered the headphones. Peter halted for one more moment before he opened the package.

Peter relaxed, when there were really only headphones in the package. He took them out. The handphones didn’t resemble the initial pile of scraps which Peter had given the man in the slightest. The over-ear headphones were matt silver. Thin metallic lines reminding of spider-net were covering the surface of the headphones. The material felt robust, but the padding for the ears was soft. They were nothing like self-made headphones Peter had before. Instead they looked ready to be sold as a SI product.

“They look nice,” May commented. Peter nodded, turning the headphones in his hands as if he expected them to vanish.

“Don’t forget to thank him,” May reminded him, “They look expensive.”

“Yes, of course,” Peter answered still studying the headphones.

May yawned next to him. “Now, off you go. Let your old aunt sleep a bit.”

Peter stood up. “Yes, see you May.”

“Yes, see you, Peter honey. Kiss Ben from me,” May said her eyes already closing.

Peter froze. “What?”

May opened her eyes again. “Hmm?”

“May… you just asked me to kiss Ben from you.”

“I… I’m just tired, honey. Sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments! They really brighten my day.
> 
> I would also ask you not to spoil Far From Home. I haven't seen it and I might not see it in the next few days. I would really be unhappy if I stumbled over a spoiler in my comments. Thanks!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to slow burn or not to slow burn...

Peter was laughing uncontrollably. He shouldn’t be laughing. It was inappropriate. Something must be wrong with him. He should be crying. Or do nothing. Nothing would be better as well. But Peter was laughing. He would have fallen from his chair if it wasn’t for Bobby’s strong grip on his shoulder.

Peter had known. He woken up in the morning and just known. Maybe it was his spider-sense or maybe some weird family-connection, but Peter had known. He hadn’t been surprised at all when the hospital had called him just before lunch and asked him to come as soon as possible. They had also insisted that he didn't come alone.

May’s cancer had spread to her brain.

Peter stomach hurt, that’s how hard he was laughing. He didn’t know why he was laughing. There was nothing funny about it. May was going to die and he was laughing like he hadn’t had in months. Maybe he had finally lost it.

Only when he finally had gotten too exhausted his laughter ebbed. Suddenly there was only a dreadful silence in the office. May’s doctor was looking at Peter with deep concern. Bobby who was sitting next to Peter was trying to control his tears. Peter was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath.

Just when Peter thought that the he couldn’t take the silence anymore, the doctor started speaking. He was talking about treatments and life expectancy. How radiotherapy and an operation could extend May’s life. Extend, not save, Peter noted.

Metastatic non-small lung carcinoma was basically incurable.

At the end the doctor wanted to know if he had any questions. Peter didn’t reply anything, and the doctor’s face grew even darker with concern. He directed the next few explanations towards Bobby, who nervously nodded to whatever the doctor said. He gave Bobby two flyers, one with information about the metastatic cancer, the other about coping.

Peter only registered that the conversation was over when the doctor was standing in front of him holding out his hand. Peter shook it, muttered a thank you and let Bobby lead him out of the office.

Bobby asked him if he wanted to visit his aunt, but Peter didn’t.

 He was afraid. He didn’t want to see May.

 

* * *

 

 

Bobby had tried the best to comfort him. He had brought him to a burger restaurant and ordered a bunch of food, but Peter hadn’t touched anything. Bobby was talking a bit too much, re-reading the flyers thrice and pointing out things that the teenager thought was good advice.

Peter didn’t respond much. He had only asked Bobby to come, because the doctor had insisted that Peter needed company. It hadn’t taken Peter long to realize that he really didn’t have anybody to ask anymore. He had hurt Ned and let down Mr. Stark. He didn’t know how Happy felt about him now, what Mr. Stark might have told the man about the failed mission, but Happy was still travelling in Europe anyway. He wouldn’t just interrupt the man’s first holidays in years. Peter had almost asked Mrs. Davis. Peter wouldn’t have liked to bother her, but he knew that going to hospital appointments with the group home’s children was kind of her job.

Just when he was about to go to Mrs. Davis’s office, Peter’s phone rang. Bobby had written him a message, asking if he wanted to come by to help him with his project after school. Hesitantly Peter had asked Bobby to come with him to the hospital and Bobby had immediately answered. The older teenager had even skipped school for the rest of the day to be with Peter.

 “Some people live with metastatic cancer for years, you know,” Bobby was now scrolling through his phone, trying to find more hopeful information than the doctor and the flyer had given them, “There is even this lady which got like cured. There is a chance, you know.”

It was a desperate attempt by Bobby to lighten this situation, to give him some hope. But Peter just blinked at him.

“I never get chances,” Peter muttered.

Bobby’s expression was edging on desperation. “You can’t give up, Peter. Not yet,” Bobby said almost pleadingly. Peter didn’t say anything to that, but just turned his gaze back to his uneaten burger.

Was he giving up?

 

* * *

 

Bobby offered him that he could stay at his place for the night, but Peter refused. It was already late afternoon, when they returned to the group home. Before leaving Bobby hugged him tightly and told Peter that he would check up on him later tonight.

Peter dreaded going back to the group home. It was shortly before dinner and the place was always incredibly hectic at that time. Everybody who didn’t want to be scolded by Mrs. Davis would be home already. Some younger boys were playing with a ball in front of the group home. Harvey was standing next to the entrance smoking.

“Was that your boyfriend, freak?” Harvey mocked him as Peter passed by him. Peter just ignored him. He didn’t have the energy to come up with a witty reply. He didn’t have the energy to care.

“Boys!” Mrs. Davis was screaming as she appeared at the entrance doors, “How many times do I have to tell you not to play on the street. The neighbours are complaining enough already.”

She took a step further outside. Quickly Harvey hid his cigarette behind his back. “Harvey, are you smoking again? Next time I see you smoking you are in charge of cleaning the toilet for a week,” Mrs. Davis told the teenager. Harvey just smiled sheepishly at her. Mrs. Davis rolled her eyes in annoyance.

Then Mrs. Davis' eyes fell on Peter, “Peter, child, where have you been? You were supposed to help cooking today. Go, hurry in and set the table. Food will be ready soon.”

She didn’t have to tell Peter twice and he rushed into the building.

It was kind of funny. Peter’s life had just been turned upside down again, but the group home was no different than the day before. Mrs. Davis was ordering the children around, while the loudest children complained about starving. Phil was always muttering something about how his human rights got violated, while Pablo just shouted at him to shut up.

Trevor was a ball of energy, helping Peter with setting up the table for dinner even though it wasn’t his turn. He was talking like a waterfall telling Peter about his day, but later Peter wouldn’t be able to recall a single thing the younger boy had told him.

Finally, when dinner was served everybody sat down and started shoving food in their mouths.

When Peter’s food went untouched and Mrs. Davis asked if he wasn’t hungry, nobody questioned his explanation of having eaten already.

After dinner Peter helped clean up. Trevor had some question about his homework and Peter patiently helped the younger boy.

Around nine o’clock Mrs. Davis send everybody to their rooms. At ten the lights of the group home got turned off. It was almost a normal evening in the group home. The same complaints, the same dialogs, the same fights. But for Peter nothing was the same. But of course, nobody noticed.

It was already completly quiet in the group home when Peter soundlessly stood up from his field bed and walked to the toilet. He didn’t bother to turn on the light, but he locked the bathroom with shaking hands. As soon as he heard the lock click, tears started running down his cheeks. He more fell than sat down on the cold tiles, the door against his back. He hugged his knees and pressed them against him. It didn’t help against the tightness in his chest or the pain his stomach.

May was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die.

 

* * *

 

 

The next two weeks passed quietly. Peter didn’t go to school and he didn’t care much about that. Part of him was glad to be suspended. He would do whatever Mrs. Davis assigned him to do. He would finish his chores and school assignments silently and efficiently.  He avoided Harvey and if the boy confronted him, Peter would just let him. The older teenager kept insulting Peter or was shoving him around or tearing Peter’s schoolwork apart. When Harvey had taken his new headphones from him, Peter had just let him take them.

Peter also ate less. He had started noticing how Mrs. Davis frowned when Peter took a third or fourth serving. Thus, Peter tried to eat only one portion. His appetite quickly disappeared completely. He knew that it was wrong that he had to poke a new whole in his belt only after a few days of dieting. His super-metabolism was merciless, but Peter couldn’t care anymore.

He would have had a lot of time to go out as Spider-Man. He taken out his suit once, but then quickly put it back in a plastic bag and shoved it to the bottom of the cardboard box that served as his improvised cupboard. He just couldn’t find the energy to get into the suit, crawl out of the window and swing through the streets.

Instead after his chores were done, he would visit May. Neither of them mentioned that May was going to die, instead they kept having small talks pretending that everything was fine. 

Bobby was usually there to pick him up from the hospital. He would go home to his apartment and work on Bobby’s chemistry project. Peter wasn’t really motivated, but the older teenager was relentless.

But Peter missed Ned. What made it worse was that Ned kept calling him. Some part of Peter really wanted to pick up and tell the other boy everything. Another part of Peter was scared. What if he couldn’t fix his friendship with the boy? How could he explain to Ned everything that had happened?

Mr. Stark kept his promise of updating Peter on Mr. Rhodes somewhat. Every few days he would write a short message. Mr. Stark had been in Poland for about a weeklong after the incident. They went to Berlin afterwards, apparently Mr. Stark had found a specialist there. Mr. Rhodes was still unconscious, and every time Peter got the same update his stomach churned.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, May,” Peter put the fruit yogurt he had bought downstairs on her table, “The nurses had told me that you didn’t eat much for lunch again. Please. It’s your favourite.”

Seeing May hurt. It seemed to Peter that everyday she had less energy. She got tired only after minutes of talking. Shadows grew under her eyes. Peter practically had to beg her to eat.

“I’m just not hungry, honey. Please. I can take care of myself,” May argued back.

“Please. For me?” Peter tried his best puppy eyes on May. The woman sighed and took the yoghurt.

“You are unbelievable, you know that, kiddo?” She said with a smile and started eating, “But afterwards you are letting me sleep, alright?”

Peter grinned at her as she took her second spoon in her month.

“Promise,” he said. He put his head on her shoulder and watched as she fought to finish the cup of sugar-free yoghurt topped with blueberries and some cereal. When she finished, she gently pushed his head down on her lap and started caressing his head. Peter closed his eyes.

“Promise me to eat more too, alright kiddo? You’ve lost weight,” she said softly.

Peter just nodded.

“Everything is going to alright you know that?”

Peter didn’t answer. Instead the door of May’s hospital room opened. It was her doctor.

He asked some quick routinized questions, before turning to Peter.

“Come on, son. Let your aunt sleep a bit. I have a break and how about we get something to eat?”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter was sitting opposite of the doctor in the cafeteria. Against Peter’s protests the doctor had bought him a sandwich and a coke. The doctor himself was eating a salat and had a big bottle of sparkling water.

He took a few bites, apparently quite hungry, before he started speaking.

“How are you holding up, son?” The man asked him.

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Alright,” he muttered.

“I somehow don’t believe that. You should go to one of our support groups. It is important to talk to people.”

Again, Peter just shrugged his shoulders. His gaze fell on the sandwich.

“I know this is all incredibly hard on you. But I promise you, talking will help.”

Instead of responding Peter just took a bite of the sandwich. It was made from dark bread, an avocado and salmon. It should probably be the best thing Peter had eaten in a while, but Peter could only taste the bitterness of the full-grain bread.

The doctor sighed and continued to eat his own food. He finished his salat quickly, but he patiently waited for to eat his food as well. It took Peter some time longer. Even when Peter finished the man kept staring at the teenager.

“Is your friend picking you up today as well?” The doctor asked and glanced at the clock, “he always comes around this time.”

Peter nodded. Bobby was going to pick him up some time soon. The doctor took a deep breath and took a paper out of his pocked. He put it in front of Peter. The teenager’s eyes widened.

“Son,” he informed Peter, “Your aunt’s insurance isn’t going to continue to pay for her future treatment. At least not for the whole therapy.”

There were large numbers on the paper endlessly listing costs. Not even thousands of delivered pizzas could pay for that.

“I… I can’t pay for that.”

The man’s face saddened. “There are ways to finance it. Have you thought about crowd funding?”

Peter blinked. “Donations? No… I… May wouldn’t like it.”

“You might not have a choice. Or do you have any relative or family friend that could help you out?”

 _Mr. Stark._ Peter pushed that thought away.

“I… no,” Peter answered, “Can’t we, I don’t know, talk to her insurance? Maybe if we explain everything…”

The doctor immediately shook his head. “Look kid, I tried fighting insurance companies for years. It was always fruitless.

“What should I do?” Peter wanted to know.

The doctor stared at him for a while. “I don’t know.”

“How much time would she have without the treatment?”

“Three months. Maybe.”

 

* * *

 

 

As always Bobby had picked up Peter from the hospital. They silently continued on his science project in Bobby’s small bedroom, while Peter’s phone grew heavier and heavier in his pocket. He tried to read something Bobby had recommended, but Peter couldn’t focus. There was no way that he could pay for May’s treatment. Even if went against anything Ben and May had taught him, and he started collecting donation, it would be impossible to collect enough to pay for the whole treatment.

May’s cancer was also terminal. Would people even donate to something that only extended someone’s life?

“I need to call somebody. Uh, I will be back in a sec,” Peter told Bobby. The older teenager raised an eyebrow but just nodded.

“Sure, no probs.”

Quickly Peter disappeared into the living room, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath, unlocked his phone and dialled one of the few numbers saved in his phone.

“Tony Stark _,”_ his mentor answered the phone. Peter’s heart skipped a beat and his throat got dry.

“Mr. Stark…” Peter stuttered, but then in the next most horrible second he realized that it was the man’s mailbox.

“ _… I’m currently busy saving the world or preoccupied ignoring it. Feel free to leave a massage. I might listen to it.”_

Quickly Peter ended the call and stared at his phone. He dialled again.

_“Tony Stark, I’m currently busy saving the world or preoccupied ignoring it. Feel free to leave a massage. I might listen to it.”_

Peter dialled again. His heart was racing.

“ _Tony Stark, I’m currently busy…”_

And again. Breathing got more difficult.

_“Tony Stark, I’m currently…”_

Again. Peter’s hand were trembling.

_“Tony Stark, I’m curr”_

Peter didn’t know how many times he tried to call his mentor. Tony Stark was always reachable.

“ _Tony Stark, I’m”_

There was no rational explanation why he wasn’t picking up. Only of course, if he was ignoring Peter.

_“Tony Stark, I’m”_

Or something worse had happened. Maybe Mr. Rhodes died.

_“Tony Stark, I…”_

Maybe Mr. Stark had an accident. Or died fighting those invisible soldiers Peter let free.

“ _Tony Stark, I…”_

Suddenly there was a hand on Peter’s shoulder. Startled turned around. Bobby was looking at Peter with worry.

“What’s going on, Pete?” he asked softly. Peter tried to say something, but he didn’t have enough air in his lungs. He gasped for air, but he just couldn’t breathe.

“Okay breath,” Bobby said. He had quickly realized that Peter had a panic attack. He took Peter’s phone out of the boy’s shaking hands and put it on the living room table next to them.

He guided Peter to the couch and patiently held hand on Peter’s back, while trying to calm him down. It was a longer panic attack than usual. Only after fifteen minutes his breathing had finally slowed. His heart was still racing. He reached out for his phone, but Bobby stopped him.

“Who did you try to call?” The older teenager wanted to know.

“My boss…uh, a friend,” Peter answered and then quickly corrected himself, “Just a guy.”

Bobby looked at him with worry. “You wanna talk about it?”

Peter shook his head. Bobby sighed, quickly disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two glasses of coke. He put them on the living room table. He turned on the TV and changed the channels until there was a dumb comedy on the screen.

“Just try calling him later, alright? People have good reasons for not picking up,” Bobby tried to comfort Peter, “I’m sure he will call back.”

Suddenly Bobby made two blankets appear and threw one on Peter. Both teenagers started watching the comedy, but Peter wasn’t really paying attention. He doubted that Bobby did. At some point Bobby got up again, telling Peter he was getting some snacks.

Peter knew that he was going to get in trouble at the group home again for coming home late, but Peter didn’t care. He shifted on the old couch, trying to find a comfortable position.

He felt something where he was sitting. He pulled out a small plastic bag from under him. It had a small pink pill inside.

Bobby returned with a bowl of chips and a bag of gummy bears. He placed them on the living room table, before slumping back into the couch,

Peter made the pink pill disappear in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your reviews.  
> I got a few more reviews than usual. The reason for this is apparently because people complain that this story is too slow and that finally Peter's suffering should end.
> 
> I could defend myself at this point, but I think a few readers, foremost Kurasa and NASAS_MESSAGE_IN_A_BOTTLE, have pretty much expressed my reasoning for the plot in their comments for the last chapter. For once I will be a bit lazy in writing and just second their comments.
> 
> I would only like to add though that this story wouldn't work if it wasn't slow. There are three plots explored in this story: Peter is confronted with drug dealers, Peter had to fight Hydra and his aunt is sick leading them to fall behind the poverty line. I also introduced a handful of original characters (Bobby, Alex, Harvey, Mrs. Davis, Trevor...) Out of those characters at least Bobby has some depths. It would be impossible to speed this up without cutting out plot or making this story feel unrealistic. I need time to tell this story and thanks to everybody who is giving it to me. Of course, Tony will come in, but I need some things to happen first for future plots.
> 
> Thanks also to everybody, who was pointing out that it is my story and I can do what I want. But while this might be true, I still very much appreciate negative criticism. If I just wanted to write for my own pleasure only, I wouldn't publish it online. 
> 
> If a reader expresses his loss of interest, that is then a completely valid feeling and the fault is probably in my writing and plot development. Of course, a bad comment disappoints me, especially if the reader had been reviewing my story regularly. Should I change the story because of that? Honestly, my first reaction was yes, and I started writing a resolution.  
> Then I read some comments arguing against speeding the story up and I hesitated a bit. Lastly, I realized that my quick resolution would also stop some other plans I had for the story. Certain things just need to happen. I’m not going to cut out plotlines just to give some readers their quick, fluffy fix. If you are not in for the ride, then you are not.  
> However, I will keep your criticism in mind for the next story I’m going to write, but I will not budge from my plans for this one.  
> Alright, I will stop at this point before my comment gets longer than the actual chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for support, critique, kudos and bookmarks! Lastly, I would like to ask anybody who wants to comment to scroll a bit back, read the last passage of my story and rather review on my story than on this too long answer to my readers.
> 
> Love you all,  
> storyarchitect  
> P.S. Please don’t spoil FFH


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical inaccuracies thanks to my lack of medical knowledge and the non-existence of scientific litrature on Peter's spider-powers.

Peter was lying on the roof of the hospital. It was around twelve at night, he had left Bobby’s place two hours ago. He could hear May’s slow breathing and her steady heartbeat a few floors under him. It should have been hard to pick out a single heartbeat in the mingle of noises in the busy hospital, but somehow for Peter May’s heartbeat was louder and more unique than anything else in the city.

He had reread the estimation of costs for her treatment over and over again. He calculated how many shifts in the pizzeria he would have to take to pay for it. He had scoffed at his result. Even if he worked five years full-time every day of the year without spending a single dollar on anything else, he wouldn’t be able to cover the costs.

The doctor had said that she would have three months if she didn’t get the right treatment.

Peter tried to wipe his tears away, but just new ones came. Three months wasn’t enough. He wasn’t ready to lose her too. Three months that was so early.

 She would die before spring. She wouldn’t have another summer. She wouldn’t see Peter turn sixteen.

He would be all alone.

Peter looked up at his phone again. There were a few missed calls from Mrs. Davis, but Peter didn’t care about her or the group home.

Mr. Stark hadn’t called back. It had been almost four hours since Peter had first tried to reach the man, but there was no reaction from the billionaire.

Peter only noticed how cold and stiff his hands were, when he started typing.

_“Mr. Stark, can you please call me back?”_

He sent the message and stared at his screen. He looked at it for a about a minute, before he started writing the next message.

_“I know you are angry, but it’s really important. Please.”_

He had to wipe his eyes a few times to be able to see the screen clear enough to type a third message.

 _“It’s Peter Parker by the way. Please call,”_ he added quickly and pressed the phone against his chest.

 

* * *

 

Another hour had passed and there was no answer from the man. Mrs. Davis had sent a few messages asking him where he was and if he was alright. Every time when his screen lit up there was a small hope rising in him that Mr. Stark had finally answered, but Peter got disappointed every time.

Eventually, Peter put his phone back into his pocket. He fished out a small plastic bag with a single pill inside. He looked at it for a while.

He didn’t exactly know why he did it. Maybe because he just wanted to feel good. Because that’s what drugs did, right?

Or maybe he just had the childish thought that suddenly somebody would appear and stop him. That somebody was left who was caring about him, watching him.

Or maybe it was the exact opposite. He did it because he knew nobody would come, nobody was going to look for him.

He glanced on his phone one last time, before taking the pill out of its plastic bag and swallowing it dry.

 

* * *

 

 _Well, that was anti-climactic,_ Peter thought. Another half an hour had passed, and the pill had exactly no effect on him. He didn’t feel any different. He didn’t exactly know what Bobby was selling, but obviously it didn’t do anything for him. There were no stimulants, no euphoria, no hallucinations.

A raindrop hit his forehead.  With a sigh he decided to get back to the group home before it started to pour. He would have to face Mrs. Davis’ wrath, but chances were that she hadn’t called the police yet. He wouldn’t be the first teenager in that group home to have returned home after mid-night.

But just as he tried to stand up pain shot through his lower stomach. A light nausea hit him.

Peter frowned a bit. Was he getting sick? He hadn’t been sick since he had gotten bit by the spider and he had kind of thought that couldn’t get sick anymore.

It took him some effort to stand up. He clenched his teeth as he took slow steps towards the edge of the hospital roof. He hadn’t thought twice when he had scaled up that building a few hours ago, but suddenly climbing down didn’t seem like the brightest of all ideas. He felt dizzy. Was it the drug after all?

He went back to the door to staircase leading up to the roof, only to find it locked.

His throat started burning as his mouth filled with bile. He pounded a few times against the metal door, but quickly realized that nobody was going to hear him.

It started to rain heavier. The raindrops were cold, barely above the freezing point.

He staggered back to the edge of the roof again, trying his best not to trip.

It must be the drug. It was doing something after all, but probably just not what it was supposed to do. He can’t remember stomach pain to be a side effect from taking drugs, but pain was almost the only thing he could feel right now.

It really wasn’t the smartest idea, but Peter climbed over the of the edge of the roof and slowly started crawling down the wall. He felt dizzy, but he thought that it was still going to be fine. His sticky hands worked, dizzy or not. It was going to be fine.

Until suddenly he couldn’t tell where was up and down.

Why did his muscles in arms and legs suddenly ache?

And actually… where was he?

He was in the air. Right. But why? Instinctively, he tried to click his web-shooters, but there was nothing on his wrists. Before he could spend another thought on why was he in the air but not in his suit, he hit asphalt, and everything went black.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Peter noticed when he woke was that he ached. Everywhere. His head was pounding a merciless staccato, his ribs were burning, and his muscles felt like he had just run a marathon (or three or four marathons, whatever would exhaust his super-stamina).

A machine next to him was humming. Peter knew that it probably wasn’t too loud of a sound but thanks to his super-hearing paired with a relentless headache he was finding the noise was extremely agitating.

It smelled strongly like disinfectant, but he could tell that it was a different one than the disinfectant May’s hospital used.

He tried to open his eyes, but immediately closed them again. The artificial light in the room was far too bright.

“Hangovers suck, huh kid?” A deep voice next to him told. Peter’s heart skipped a beat. Again, but more carefully he tried to open his eyes, ignoring the stinging pain the light caused him. He had to blink a few times, before his vision cleared. Mr. Stark was sitting next to him, his arms folded in front of him and his eyes fixed on the teenager, who was lying on a hospital bed.

“But I guess hangovers especially suck after falling from the rooftop of a five-story building. Ironically a hospital,” Mr. Stark continued. His voice was laid with heavy sarcasm.

Peter tried to say something, but his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. His lips were dry, and his tongue felt numb.  Mr. Stark seemed to notice. He filled a plastic glass with water and held it out to Peter. As the teenager tried to sit up his arm stung. Confused Peter saw that his left arm was positioned on a pillow. Two needles were stuck in his arm, tubes of blood were connected to the machine, which was making this annoying humming noise. Peter frowned a bit. It wasn’t hard to guess what the medical instrument was. It was a dialysis machine.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t move that arm,” Mr. Stark commented, “I guess enhanced teenagers have very special kinds of hangovers.”

The man pulled out a plastic straw, put it the plastic cup and held both close enough to Peter’s face so that he could drink from it. Hesitantly Peter took a few sips from the straw, while watching his mentor carefully.

“What happened?” Peter asked, when Mr. Stark put the half empty cup back on a side table next.  He tried to sit up again, this time without moving his left arm. Embarrassed Peter realized that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Only a tight white bandage was covering his ribs. He was still in his jeans, but the right trouser leg was ripped open. His foot was in a cast.

“What happened is,” Mr. Stark said raising his voice angrily, “That you successfully almost killed yourself.”

Peter frowned a bit. He remembered taking the pill and his confusion afterwards. The uncomfortable feeling of shame settled in his stomach.

Mr. Stark stood up from his chair, now towering over him, a deep frown on his face.

“Ecstasy, really?” his mentor asked, “You had to try Ecstasy?”

“I…” Peter’s mouth felt dry again. He hadn’t even known that it was Ecstasy, “I… sorry.”

“Uh, huh, I better hope you’re sorry. Because if I would have arrived about five minutes later, you would be six feet under,” Mr. Stark told him.

“What?” Peter blinked.

“You would have kicked the bucket, bit the dust. You would be pushing up daisies.”

“I… I would have died?” The teenager questioned, suddenly having a weird feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah, you would have died. You see, your super-metabolism is apparently not so super in processing MDMA, in fact it doesn’t process it at all. Instead it was just fucking up your kidneys and poisoning you. That’s the reason for that by the way,” Mr. Stark said angrily and pointed at the dialysis machine, “And in addition to taking a drug while not having the slightest idea how it’s going to influences you, you also thought that it was a great idea to do that on 70 feet high roof.”

“I… sorry,” Peter mumbled, heat rising to his cheek, suddenly feeling awfully stupid.

Mr. Stark remained unimpressed by his apologies. “You could have snapped your neck. And then? Your healing factor isn’t going to fix that, is it now? God, how could you have been so stupid?”

The man stared at him as if he expected an answer to his rhetorical question.

“Sorry,” Peter repeated again, “It’s just that…” His eyes filled with tears.

“Nope, no. No!” Mr. Stark interrupted him and raised a finger warningly, “You don’t get to cry. You screwed up; you don’t get to cry.”

“Please, Sir. I just…”

“Just what?” The man snarled back, “Swinging through the city wasn’t giving you enough kicks anymore? You needed something else?”

“No! I… May,” Peter started but then the words got stuck in his throat. He looked at his mentor, trying to find something in the man’s face that would give him the courage to talk. But Mr. Stark’s face was cold as stone.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Peter mumbled in defeat.

“Good. You weren’t thinking. That means that you might have a functioning brain, you are just not using it,” Mr. Stark retorted, “Try to use it more, will ya? And let’s set some goals. In the future you try to screw up only one thing per month, alright? Does that sound manageable? Baby steps.”

“I…” Peter gaze fell. It has only been little over three weeks since Poland, “How is Mr. Rhodes?” Peter asked in a low voice.

This time Mr. Stark hesitated before answering. “Not much change on the consciousness part. But his lungs have healed fine. We just arrived at the compound, actually. He is in the room next door. Shield transported him in a medical plane.”

He paused for a second.

“The plane was built in pre-historic times apparently,” Mr. Stark held his phone up and informed him in a grim but calm voice, “No internet, no network.”

“16 missed calls,” Mr. Stark continued, “And three very obscure messages. Are you actively trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I’m sorry,” Peter muttered, “I was kind of panicking.”

Mr. Stark sighed. The man looked extremely tired, there were dark bags under his eyes, his skin a shade to pale for the man.

“Alright, kid. It’s four thirty in the morning. The dialysis machine should be done in a few hours. Try to sleep and then we will talk some more.”

Peter nodded. Mr. Stark was about to leave the room, when he turned around again.

“You gave me quite a scare, you know that kid?” Mr. Stark spoke softly, “When I found you… for a second I thought you were dead. Don’t do this to me again, alright?”

 

* * *

 

Just minutes after Mr. Stark left his room, Dr Helen Cho came in. Peter had never met the South Korean woman before, but he had heard stories about her. She was friendly but also professional. Quickly she went through a checklist of questions, before controlling some numbers on the screen of the dialysis machine.

Mr. Stark hadn’t been very helpful with explaining details of the evening, but Dr Cho quickly gave Peter a summary.

Apparently, after Mr. Stark had arrived in New York, he saw Peter’s missed called. Immediately he had called a suit and located Peter’s phone. The man had flown the unconscious teenager to the compound, where Dr Cho had quickly diagnosed kidney failure. His tox report found MDMA or Ecstasy in his blood.

MDMA usually got metabolized by the liver, but Peter was apparently missing some enzymes. As his kidneys tried to deal with the toxins, he sustained an acute kidney failure. He also came in with broken ribs and a broken ankle, but the kidney failure made his condition life threatening. Dr Cho had gotten him stable though with a mix of fluids, medication and by putting him on a dialysis to clean out the toxins from his blood. When Peter described to Dr Cho having felt confused, she told him that hadn’t gotten high, but that disorientation, dizziness and nausea were common side effects of kidney failure. His healing factor was going to fix his kidneys though and there wasn’t going to be any permanent damage. His ribs and ankles were going to heal somewhat slower than usual though, his metabolism had taken quite a toll. She guessed that it would take about one to two weeks for him to fully recover.

 

* * *

 

Peter had fallen asleep before Dr Cho had left. When he woke up the next time, the lights in his room were turned off, but daylight from the rising sun was shining through the windows. The needles from his arms were removed, the dialysis machine turned off and moved to the corner of the room.

His headache was mostly gone, but a heavy exhaustion and pain in his foot and ribs remained. Nonetheless, Peter decided to get up. Nervousness was building up in his stomach and he knew that he could fall back asleep again.

Mr. Stark was angry – understandably. It had been pretty stupid to take the pill. Some part of Peter, a deeply ashamed part, just wanted to run away and never see Mr. Stark again. He didn’t want to explain to the man how his life had fallen apart and how Peter had tried to handle it but had ultimately failed. He didn’t want to tell Mr. Stark about May. Because as long as Peter didn’t ask Mr. Stark for help, the man also couldn’t reject his request for help. With help Peter not only meant financing May’s treatment, but something more. As embarrassed as he was to ask for money Peter was certain that the self-proclaimed hero wouldn’t deny his aunt the right treatment. But Peter knew that he was starving for more help than money could buy. If he just didn’t ask Mr. Stark for help, Peter could pretend that maybe, just maybe, the man would care, if he just knew. It was a weird ass logic.

Still, Peter knew that he had no options left but to tell Mr. Stark the truth. This was not about Peter’s pride or about his relationship to his mentor. This was about May getting the right treatment that would extend her life. She wouldn’t die even earlier, just because Peter was too scared to tell Mr. Stark his problem. Even if the man didn’t care about Peter being alone, soon to be orphaned again, and living in a group home, Mr. Stark would at least pay for May’s treatment. He would give Peter a few more months with May and really that was more than he could ask for.

He stood up from the narrow hospital bed. Pain shoot through his leg as he stepped on his foot in the cast, but he found some crutches leaning against his bed. His sweatshirt was thrown over a chair and Peter put it on.

He clumsily walked out of the room. Thanks to his enhanced hearing Peter knew that Mr. Stark was in the room next door, Mr. Rhodes’ hospital room. The door was open and hesitantly Peter limped into the room.

Mr. Stark didn’t notice him at first, his back towards the door. The man was staring at Mr. Rhodes and Peter was pretty certain that his mentor had just skipped a night of sleep again. 

Mr. Rhodes was lying perfectly still. If it weren’t for the medical machines attached to him, Peter would have thought that he was sleeping.

“Up already, Underoos?” Mr. Stark asked without turning around.

“I… yeah, Mr. Stark.”

Breathing out loudly the man stood up from his chair. He turned around and looked at Peter tiredly.

“We… we wanted to talk, right?” Peter started anxiously.

Mr. Stark put his hands in the pockets of his trousers. His shoulders were slightly slumped, very unusual for the over-confident man.

“Yeah, but not here,” Mr. Stark answered. Peter glanced at Mr. Rhodes behind him, and Peter nervously nodded.

They walked out of the room into the hallway.

“Mr. Stark, I…”

But again, his mentor stopped him.

“Not here either,” Mr. Stark said and pulled out his car keys, “and not only the two of us.”

Confused Peter looked at the man.

“I supported your secret vigilante super-hero gig as long as I thought you could handle it,” the man told him in a defeated voice, “But today you proved that you are far from responsible. We are going to drive to the city, sit down with your aunt and then we will have a nice, long chat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the support. I remember being excited about having a handful of reviews at the beginning of the story and I can't believe how many people are following this story now. I feel very flattered and I hope not to disappoint you all.


	19. Chapter 19

_Just tell him already,_ Peter thought to himself, _He’s going to find everything out anyway. Just talk to him._

Mr. Stark was walking in front of him. He was a pace too quick and Peter struggled to keep up with the man feeling slightly clumsy on the crutches. His muscles still ached, and he felt less coordinated than usual.

They took the elevator three stories down until they reached the basement of the compound. Peter couldn’t feel but a little stunned by the series of cars Mr. Stark had apparently collected. Each of those cars was probably as or even more expensive than May’s cancer treatment.

Mr. Stark stopped in front of one of the more spacious cars, a brand-new Audi A8. He turned around and looked at Peter.

“Okay, kid, that’s how this is going to work. It’s a two-hour car ride and you are going to lie down in the back and sleep. You probably shouldn’t even be walking around yet. God, you almost died six hours ago. Meanwhile, I need to do some calls to some doctors for Rhodey. Alright?”

Peter nodded. _Tell him now. He will just be more pissed if he drives two hours just to learn that May is in the hospital._

Mr. Stark opened the rear door of the car and impatiently indicated to Peter with a nod to get in. Peter breathed heavily but climbed into the car and lied down. He couldn’t completely stretch but it was a comfortable enough. His mentor closed the door and went away. For a second Peter was confused where Mr. Stark was going and why he wasn’t getting in too, but Peter’s his eyelids got heavy as soon as he had lied down. He must have immediately dozed off for a few minutes, because when Mr. Stark returned he had opened the door of the car next to Peter’s head. Mr. Stark was lifting his head with one hand and putting a pillow under it. Then he threw a light blanket over Peter.

“Sleep, alright Spider-Boy? It’s been a long night,” Mr. Stark said softly. Peter might have only imagined it, because he was already half asleep again, but he could swear felt Mr. Stark’s hand gently brush through his hair.

 

* * *

 

“We are here, kid.” Mr. Stark announced loudly. Peter tried to stretch only to realize that he couldn’t, there wasn’t enough space. He was comfortably warm; a fluffy blanket was on top of him. It took him a moment to remember that he was in Mr. Stark’s car on the way to New York City. Peter didn’t really want to wake up. First, the backseat was comfortable, the seats were soft. Softer than the field bed in the group home anyway. Mr. Stark must have turned on the seat heating. Second, he really didn’t want to have whatever conversation would follow. Peter closed his eyes again.

“Come on, kid. The sooner we get this over us, the sooner you can go sleep in a real bed,” Mr. Stark insisted.

The man got out of the car, got Peter’s crutches from the trunk and opened the rear door of the vehicle. He pulled the blanket away.

“Up you get, Spiderling. I don’t have all day,” Mr. Stark told the boy. Peter groaned unhappily, but finally he dragged himself out of the car. Mr. Stark gave him the crutches, locked the car and started walking.

Startled Peter realized that they were in front of Peter’s old apartment building. Mr. Stark didn’t know. He didn’t know that Peter had moved out of this building complex weeks ago.

His mentor was already at the entrance, looking through the names next to the house bells. Hesitantly, Peter stepped next to the man. The name Parker had already been removed, but there were so many people living in the apartment house it would take Mr. Stark a while to realize that the name was missing.

“You have a key, kid?” Mr. Stark asked, still trying to find the name on the bell.

“Uh, no. I… uh lost it.” Peter mumbled. Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow at the teenager. There was some slight annoyance in the man’s face.

 Peter gulped, trying to collect all the courage he had left. “Actually, Mr. Stark. May isn’t here.”

“Yeah? Where is she?” The man wanted to know, his attention back to the names next the bell. He was starring at them as if they were a challenging riddle.

“At work,” Peter answered a bit too quickly. Why was he lying? There was no point really.

  _Just tell him already._

“Uh, huh, kid,” Mr. Stark now turned back to him, “I know she’s not at work. I tried to contact her earlier. When she didn’t pick up, I called her work. They said she is sick. So, I guess aunt hottie is home.”

“I… she… she… isn’t,” Peter stuttered, but Mr. Stark wasn’t listening, instead he was now schematically going through the names from top to bottom.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said a bit louder, a bit more determined, but his voice still shaking, “May isn’t home. She is at the hospital.”

“I told you I called her work earlier, she called in sick,” the man replied. He was halfway through the name list.

“No, you don’t understand,” Peter said back, his eyes starting to burn and panic rose in his chest, “She is in the hospital, not to work, but… but as a patient.”

Peter could feel Mr. Stark stiffen. The man turned around and looked at the teenager.

“What happened?” Mr. Stark wanted to know, “Is she alright?”

Peter felt that his hand started trembling. He clenched the grips of his crutches tighter, before Mr. Stark could see it.

“She…she… has cancer.”

Finally, Peter had said it. But the tension his chest didn’t disappear. Instead his heart started racing as he watched Mr. Stark take the information in.

Peter’s heart plummeted as Mr. Stark didn’t show much reaction, there was only a deep frown on the man’s face.

_He’s angry. He’s angry. He doesn’t care._

Peter’s breathing got heavier.

_Don’t get a panic attack now. Not in front of Mr. Stark._

His chest hurt, that’s how quick his heart was beating. Why wasn’t Mr. Stark saying anything? Mr. Stark just stood there, a dark expression on his face.

_He’s angry. He’s annoyed. He doesn’t want to deal with you and your problems._

Peter couldn’t breathe. His whole body started shaking.

_What if he doesn’t want to pay?_

Peter tried to grasp for air, but his lungs just didn’t want to fill.

That’s when Mr. Stark’s eyes widened with realization and the man moved into action. He was suddenly at Peter’s side, one hand on his back, the other grabbing his arm and holding him upright.

“Kid, breath,” Mr. Stark ordered gently but with urgency. Peter tried to, but there was only a wheezing sound coming out of his lungs.

“Look at me, Peter,” Mr. Stark insisted, “You are alright. It’s just a panic attack. You are going to be alright.”

Peter still couldn’t breathe. He looked his mentor in the eyes. _Please, help._

“Just follow my breathing alright?” Mr. Stark told him. He took Peter’s right hand in his and let the crutch fall to the floor. He guided the hand to his chest and pressed it against the spot where the arc reactor had once been. Peter could feel the exaggerated movement of his mentor’s lungs under his palm.

“Follow my breathing. It’s going to be okay. Just focus on breathing. Nothing else,” the man said gently.

Peter focused on the raising and falling of Mr. Stark’s chest. And finally, he could feel his lungs fill with oxygen again.

“Good, that’s it,” Mr. Stark encouraged him, “You are doing great, Peter. Just continue breathing, nice and slowly.”

It took Peter another minute until his breathing returned to being completely regular.

“Yes, that’s it, Spider-Boy. Just continue doing that.”

Mr. Stark gave him a short, forced smile, before he let go of Peter’s hand. Hesitantly Peter pulled his hand away from his mentor’s chest. He didn’t really want to let go but he didn’t want to overstep some boundaries.

Peter wanted to look away, embarrassed about his sudden panic attack. But Mr. Stark didn’t let him. He put a hand under Peter’s chin and forced the teenager to look him in the eyes. A rough thumb brushed a tear away from the boy’s cheek.

“It’s going to be alright. We are going to fix this,” Mr. Stark tried to reassure him. Peter just shook his head, not having the energy to tell the man that there was nothing left to fix. May’s cancer was terminal.

Then suddenly Mr. Stark’s hand slid to the back of Peter’s head and he pulled the teenager’s head against his shoulder. Strong arms embraced him.

Peter tensed up. The awkward almost-hug after Germany aside, they had never hugged. But Mr. Stark didn’t seem care. Even though Peter didn’t hug him back, he kept holding him tightly.

It took Peter a few seconds to eventually relax in his mentor’s arms. When he did ,his legs almost gave in and even more tears started pour out of his eyes.

Comfortingly, Mr. Stark caressed his hair.

“Sh,” Mr. Stark hushed him soothingly, “It’s going to be alright, Pete. I’m here, alright? I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than usual, but I just didn't want to leave you hanging on a cliff for too long and I think that scene was emotional enough for one chapter. We all need a break.
> 
> Your comments are all lovely and they brighten my day. Thank you all for supporting this story and suffering with Peter for over 50,000 words.
> 
> Have a great weekend, lovelies. An update will follow soon.


	20. Chapter 20

It took a while until Peter stopped crying. And even when he had stopped Mr. Stark didn’t let go. They must have been standing there for quite a while, because when Mr. Stark finally let go of the hug, Peter had almost dozed off.

Mr. Stark squeezed Peter’s shoulder.

“I know you are exhausted, kiddo, and you probably don’t feel like it, but we need to talk about what’s going on,” his mentor decided.

Peter’s throat felt tight. He didn’t want to talk about it. But he knew that he had to.

“Let’s go inside, sit down in your living room and talk,” Mr. Stark suggested. He nodded towards the entrance of the apartment house. Peter’s stomach turned.

“I… Mr. Stark, I’m… uh, not staying in the apartment,” Peter told the man.

Mr. Stark took a deep breath. “Why not?”

“I… you know… I’m not an adult and they wouldn’t let me stay alone, while May is in the hospital,” Peter explained to his mentor. It was as much of the truth as Peter was willing to share right now. Knowing Mr. Stark, the man would unravel everything what had happened the past few months anyway, but Peter was too exhausted to share everything at this moment.

“Yeah, right. That makes sense,” Mr. Stark agreed. The man folded his arms in front of his chest, seemingly very uncomfortable with the situation. “So, with who are you staying?”

Peter blinked. Did he really have to tell the man? Peter’s throat felt impossible dry. Still, the teenager didn’t have much choices.

“A group home,” Peter mumbled barely audible.

Mr. Stark frowned.

“Excuse me? What did you just stay?” There was something dangerous in his mentor’s voice.

Peter took a step back from the man, suddenly feeling more nervous again.

“A group home,” Peter repeated, a bit louder than before. “But it’s not that bad,” he quickly added, when he saw anger on the man’s face, “I mean it’s only temporary, really it’s fine.”

“A group home?” Mr. Stark questioned, “A group home? Really? How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you been staying there?” Mr. Stark pushed.

“Uh, like three weeks I think,” Peter answered.

Mr. Stark went with his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. Peter could hear the man’s heart rate increase. Ashamed Peter’s gaze fell to the floor.

“Let me get this straight. You’ve been living in a group home for three weeks now and you didn’t care to tell me? After making you fight invisible Hydra super-soldiers, I send you back to a freaking group home?” Mr. Stark said disbelievingly.

“It’s not such a big deal. Really,” Peter argued, but he didn’t seem to convince Mr. Stark.

“How much longer? How long until May is out of the hospital?” The man asked.

Peter bottom lip started to tremble. _Maybe never?_

“I… I don’t know.”

Mr. Stark went with one hand over his face.

“Why aren’t you staying with one of your friends? What’s the kid’s name? Your 'guy in the chair'? Fred? Ted?”, he questioned further.

“Ned, uh… we had a fight.” Peter told his mentor.

Mr. Stark gaze settled on Peter. The man seemed to think. His lips were pressed to a thin line.

“Alright, let’s go to that group home. I want to see it,” Mr. Stark suddenly decided.

Startled Peter’s eyes widened. “Uh, why?”

“Because clearly, whoever is getting paid to take care of you isn’t doing their job,” his mentor answered.

“That’s not true,” Peter argued, but Mr. Stark glared angrily back at him.

“Not true, huh? You overdosed on Ecstasy last night. You’ve lost 15 pounds in the past few weeks, according to Dr Cho. And you just had a panic attack. Sorry, kid, but you are a mess.”

“I only overdosed because of my weird-ass metabolism,” Peter defended himself, but Mr. Stark just raised an eyebrow.

“Not really a good argument, kid,” the man replied, “Your weird-ass metabolism didn’t make you take it, did it now?”

“I… Mr. Stark, it’s fine. The group home is fine. You don’t have to go there.” Peter continued arguing.

“And now, I really want to go there. Either you give me the address and you get into the car yourself, or I will ask FRIDAY to find the address and I will drag you there. Your choice,” Mr. Stark decided. He looked at Peter challenging.

Peter closed his eyes, which were burning with tears again. He inhaled deeply.

“Let’s get into the car then,” Peter said in defeat.

 

* * *

 

Peter had never really thought about how shabby the group home looked. He pushed the front door open and immediately felt embarrassed. The hallway was just ugly. One wall was painted in a rose pink, the other in a bright mint green. It might have looked friendly once, but the walls were dirty now, dubious stains all over the walls and some muddy fingerprints next to light switch. The floor was unclean and a bit sticky. Somebody had probably spilled something in the morning.

He was kind of relieved though that apparently the other children weren’t home. It was a school day of course and it was still morning. Peter didn’t exactly want Mr. Stark to meet the other children, but he especially didn’t want the others to see Mr. Stark. His mentor was wearing his usual lazy disguise, a baseball cap and some tinted sunglasses, but Peter doubted that the man couldn’t really fool anybody for longer than a few seconds. How the hell was Peter supposed to explain to the group home’s kids how he knew the world’s most famous hero?

Peter took his shoe off his foot without the cast. He threw it on the pile of other shoes in the hallway. The cupboards with the shoes were always full, even though Mrs. Davis kept reminding them to remove shoes that they weren’t wearing.

Peter looked at Mr. Stark carefully. The man had a deep frown on his face, his hands uncomfortably folded in front of him. Obviously, the man was unhappy, but Peter still wished that he could know what exactly Mr. Stark was thinking.

“You are not going to ask me to take of my shoes as well?” Mr. Stark growled, when he saw Peter starring at him.

Quickly Peter shook his head, blushing slightly.

“Are we just going to stand here? It’s your temporary home, right? Give me a tour,” Mr. Stark requested.

“I… uh… this the hallway,” Peter said.

The man rolled his eyes. “I can see that, kid. I want to see your room first and then I want to meet whoever is in charge of this place.”

“Oh, ok.” Peter muttered. He kind of understood why Mr. Stark might want to see Mrs. Davis. He was a bit more confused why Mr. Stark wanted to see his room.

“Uh, my room is upstairs,” Peter pointed up the staircase.

 “This place has no elevator? You are on crutches after all.”

Again, shook his head.  Mr. Stark just sighed.

“Alright, Spider-Kid. Let’s go to your room then.”

They started climbing up the staircase. It was tedious to go up and Peter was slow, but Mr. Stark patiently walked beside him.                                                                                                            

“Elevators just don’t exist in your life, do they?” Mr. Stark muttered bitterly. It was a rhetorical question and Peter pretended not to have heard him.

 

* * *

 

They just arrived at the upper floor, when Peter realized that not _everyone_ was at school right now. Harvey had just exited the toilet. Of course, of all people Harvey had to be here. Peter wasn’t really surprised though, the older teenager had the habit of skipping school and Mrs. Davis had pretty much given up on forcing him to go.

“Hey Parker,” Harvey greeted him, his tone mocking. Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He just hoped that somehow Harvey wouldn’t pay attention to Mr. Stark and not realize that Peter was accompanied by New York’s most famous billionaire.

“You look pretty banged up. You got into a fight again? You know that Mrs. Davis is going to kill you? She had to call the police this morning because you were missing.”

Peter decided to ignore the other boy and just hoped that Mr. Stark wasn’t going to confront him about Harvey later. He also hoped that Mr. Stark hadn’t noticed the headphones around Harvey’s neck. Harvey had stolen the headphones Mr. Stark had given Peter pretty much one day after Peter had gotten them.

Peter almost thought that ignoring Harvey would be successful, but just as they walked past Peter’s roommate, the older teenager kicked Peter’s healthy leg with full force. Peter stumbled and he would have fallen, if Mr. Stark hadn’t caught him.

Harvey was just smirking.

Then suddenly Mr. Stark had grabbed the older teenager bis his collar.

“What was that, punk?” Mr. Stark asked. He twisted the collar of the teenager, almost cutting of his air ways.

Harvey seemed at first only startled by the sudden attack. But when he recognized the face in front of him, any colour of his face drained.

“Ir…Iron Man?” Harvey stuttered with wide eyes.

“Mr. Stark, please,” Peter intervened, but Mr. Stark ignored Peter.

“You think it’s funny to kick somebody who’s on crutches? What kind of human garbage are you?” The man hissed into the teenager’s face.

“I… sorry, Sir…” Harvey said with a shaking voice.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter now protested louder, “Please, it’s alright. He’s just a bully.”

Again Mr. Stark pretended not to hear Peter. “I better hope you are sorry. Because if you touch my kid again, you will fucking regret it.”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.” Harvey answered quickly and for the first time the usual smugness in his voice was completely gone.

“And those are certainly not yours,” Mr. Stark took the headphones away from Harvey, before he finally letting go of the teenager. Harvey rubbed his throat and stared flabbergasted at Mr. Stark and then at Peter.

“Maybe you should better go to school, Biff. Although, honestly, in your case that might be futile anyway,” Mr. Stark told the startled teenager. Harvey nodded nervously and stumbled away, looking several times back between Peter and Mr. Stark as if he couldn’t really believe what had just happened.

Mr. Stark turned back to Peter and put the headphones around his neck.

“Your room,” Mr. Stark requested, when Peter just stared at Mr. Stark, almost as dumbfounded as Harvey.

“Mr. Stark, you can’t…just assault people. I mean, Harvey is a bully, but you can’t just threaten him,” Peter stuttered.

“I’m Tony Stark. I can do whatever the fuck I want. Your room, spiderling. Now,” Mr. Stark ordered, not even trying to pretend to be patient anymore.

“I don’t see why my room is important. Why do you want to see it?” Peter complained.

“Just show it to me kid,” Mr. Stark told him. Hesitantly Peter nodded and lead the way to his room.

 

* * *

Peter sat down on his field bed, watching Mr. Stark closely. The room was a mess and Peter grew even more embarrassed than before, if that was even possible. Clothes were scattered everywhere. Except for Pablo nobody had made their bed in the morning. Nobody had cared to clean the garbage can as well. It was piling up with papers, cans of some energy drink Harvey liked and some half-eaten bags of chips.

It felt weird to see Mr. Stark standing in the room. Usually Peter shared the room with four other people, but it had never felt as crowded as right now. Mr. Stark wasn’t really a big man, neither especially tall nor heavy, but somehow the room was too small for the billionaire. The man just seemed out of place.

“Sorry about the mess,” Peter mumbled, trying to somehow ease of the awkwardness of the moment.

Mr. Stark didn’t reply anything but just kept looking around in the room until his eyes fell on Peter.

“Is that your bed?” Mr. Stark asked disbelievingly.

“Uh, yeah. They didn’t have any free beds anymore…” Peter tried to explain, but Mr. Stark wouldn’t let him.

“They didn’t even care to give you a real bed? Where am I? In an Oliver Twist novel?”

“It’s not that bad,” Peter argued, but he only made Mr. Stark scoff.

“Yeah, no. This is not working out. You are not staying here,” the man decided.

“What?”

“You are coming with me.” Mr. Stark clarified.

Peter blinked. Did Mr. Stark mean that he would let Peter stay with him?

“What?” Peter asked a second time.

His mentor glared at him intensively. “I’m not letting you stay here. You are going to pack and then you are going home with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments! And I can't believe that the story has almost 1000 Kudos! Again it's not one of my longest chapter and I'm sorry for that, but I guess dialogues have just less words than inner monologues. I promise longer chapters will still follow.
> 
> Thank you all so much!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's POV

The room looked miserable.

It wasn’t Tony’s first time visiting a group home. He vaguely recalled Pepper dragging him to some charity event for some unfortunate kids a long time ago even before Iron Man. But the group home back then had just received a generous donation. It had been thoroughly renovated, newly furnished and equipped with toys, games and computers. Tony had signed autographs for the kids and smiled into the cameras for reporters. This group home though where the kid - _his_ kid- had spent his last weeks, had obviously never seen any SI money.

The room was small, too small for five children. It was painted in an awful pink. Tony remembered reading an article once that the colour had a calming effect and was thus widely used in institutions. It didn’t help Tony to calm though. The room was untidy and stank, the furniture was run down and mismatched. And his kid had a field bed squeezed next to a cluttered desk. 

The room looked miserable.

But what really made Tony livid was… how well his kid fitted into the picture. Peter looked just as miserable as everything else in the room. Peter was awfully pale and there were big, dark bags under his eyes. It scared Tony how skinny the kid looked and his shabby clothes didn’t really help.

The kid seemed tired, tired like no fifteen-year-old should ever be. His big, brown eyes were fixed on Tony. Peter looked scared and Tony didn’t really want to know what he was scared of.

“I…I can’t just go with you,” Peter told him in a tiny voice.

“Yeah, and why is that?” Tony wanted to know.

“School”, Peter answered quickly, “The compound is too far away.”

Tony almost scoffed. Because leave it to Peter to almost die at night and still think about school the next morning.

“I have an apartment in New York, kid,” Tony replied, “I will get you to school, no worries.”

Still, Peter seemed doubtful.

“But… I mean… you aren’t like my legal guardian. I can’t just go with you.”

Tony paused for a second. That was actually a valid argument. As much as Tony just wanted to just put the kid in his car, drive away and forget that this place even existed, he couldn’t just take the kid. Because the kid was his kid, but not really his kid. Just taking him was legally kidnapping.

“Okay,” Tony then concluded, shifting a bit uncomfortable on his feet, “Then let’s make this official. I will sign whatever I need to get you out of this shithole.”

Peter’s lips started quivering again.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. But…you… you don’t have to do that. It’s fine. I don’t mind staying here.” Peter stuttered. Tony clenched his teeth and tried his best to not shout at the boy that nothing about this was fine.

God, was that why the kid hadn’t told him anything? Because the kid thought that it was fine? That he could handle it?

But he had tried to tell Tony, hadn’t he? _That_ was what he had wanted to tell Tony before the mission. It had never been about the headphones. But Tony had just kept yelling at the boy after the mission. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at the kid, but he had just been so damn angry. He had wanted to make the kid feel miserable and guilty, because that’s how Tony had felt.

Actions had consequences. And Tony had wanted to teach Peter that lesson. Tony had been angry at him. But mostly scared and worried. Because Tony was certain that the teenage hero’s naivety and unshaken belief in people would one day get him hurt. That was something that frightened Tony to the core.

If he would have just known, that he had been yelling at a kid that was possibly going through the toughest time in his life already. Tony had simply been an ass.

The kid should be angry at him. Reject him. Shout at him. Hate him. Instead Peter was just sitting there. His eyes big and gullible, looking at him as if Tony was his lifeline, his hero. But what kind of hero drags a fifteen-year-old to a fight and then blames the kid when things go wrong?

“I want to do this, Peter. Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” Tony told him and tried to keep his voice soft, even though his lungs burned with anger.

“No, you don’t,” Peter continued to argue, and Tony could tell that he was close to crying again, “It… it wouldn’t be just a few days, Mr. Stark.”

Tony gulped, when he realized what Peter implemented. He walked over to the boy and considered sitting down next to him, but the field bed didn’t look like it hold his weight, too. Instead he crouched down in front of Peter.

“Peter, how bad is your aunt?” Tony asked hesitantly.

Tony’s heart broke, when he saw Peter’s expression falter. Heavy tears were rolling down the kid’s face again. He could see that Peter tried to answer, but the only thing that escaped his mouth were sobs. Not thinking about the stability of the bed anymore, Tony sat down next to Peter. Miraculously, the bed didn’t collapse. Tony pulled Peter into a hug and pressed the boy’s head against his chest. Peter was shaking in his arms.

“She’s going to die, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled barely audible against the man’s chest. “She’s going to die. Please, I don’t know what to do.”

Tony tighten his hug, suddenly feeling his own panic risen, his own breath getting difficult. _Don’t get a freaking panic attack now, Tony. Not in front of the kid. It’s not your turn to have panic attacks._

“I’m going to get her the best doctor money can buy,” Tony promised, and he didn’t know if he said that to calm himself or Peter, “And you are going to stay with me. As long as you want.” There was a painful lump in his throat. “I don’t mind. Until you are eighteen. Or longer. I don’t mind, kiddo. You can stay with me until you are thirty and you marry, and you get your own kids. And even then, you can stay with me.”

The kid sobbed some more, but then he slowly calmed in his arms. He freed himself from Tony’s hug and looked the man in the eyes.

“You… mean that?”

“God, kid. Yes. Yes, I mean every word of it,” Tony confirmed hastily.

“Aren’t you angry at me?” Peter asked, his voice still so god damn tiny.

_He didn’t reach out to you, because he thought you were angry. You officially reached a new low of assholery._

“No, kid. No! I’m not angry at you,” Tony told the boy and paused for a second before adding, “But to make it clear, being angry and not caring are not the same thing. Even if I’m angry at you, kid, I still care about you.”

Peter furrowed his brows a little bit as if Tony had just given him a puzzle to solve.

“You aren’t angry?”

Tony sighed. “I’m not angry at you.”

But he was angry at himself. His kid hadn’t called him because he had been too scared, or he just hadn’t thought that Tony would care. His kid had thought it was easier to deal with everything by himself instead of picking up the phone and calling him. The kid hadn’t trusted him and that was Tony’s fault alone.

Tony had screwed up.

Actions had consequences.

 

* * *

 

Tony knocked two times at the door of Linda Davis before marching into her office. Peter was waiting in that shithole of a room, while Tony agreed to talk to the main caregiver of the group home and sign whatever to get Peter out of here.

“After you knock, you wait for an answer,” the woman said strictly, but slightly bored as if she had said that sentence a million times before, not realizing that it wasn’t one of the kids who had just entered her office. She was immersed in some paperwork.

Tony cleared his throat.

Only then she looked up. When she saw Tony, she first frowned. Then recognizing who the man was her eyes went wide. Any colour drained from her face.

“Sorry, my bad, I’m not used to knocking on people’s doors,” Tony explained to her, “Forgot how that works.”

“Mr. T…Tony Stark?” The woman stuttered.

“The one and only,” Tony confirmed, walking across the room and stopped in front of the woman’s table.

The woman seemed frozen on her seat for a few more seconds. Then she clumsily stood up and held her hand out to Tony.

“Linda Davis, it’s is a pleasure to meet you, Sir.” To her credit she was only stuttering a little bit.

Tony didn’t take her hand. “Thanks. I’m glad that at least one of us is enjoying this meeting,” he told the woman. His eyes wandered around in the room, taking in the mess of the room. Then he turned back to the woman. “I’m here to pick up my kid,” Tony declared.

Confusion was clear in the woman’s face.

“Your kid?” She asked after a pause.

“Peter Parker,” Tony explained, “I would like to take Peter Parker home with me.”

The woman didn’t seem any less confused.

“Are you related?” The woman asked with a frown on her face, “Because in his files there is nothing about any relatives except his aunt…” The woman started to look for something in a drawer under her desk. She pulled out a folder with Peter’s name on it.

“We aren’t related,” Tony told the woman, “So what do I need to sign to take him home?”

The woman still didn’t seem to be able shake her confusion and shock about having Tony in her office.

“I… Mr. Stark, Sir… If you aren’t the child’s father and/or legal guardian, you can’t just take him.”

“I’m not just taking him, am I? I’m talking to you and I want to make this official. So, what do I need to fill out and sign?”

“I…” Mrs. Davis seemed hesitant, but then searched for some papers in a cupboard. She pulled out some papers and put them on her table. “You want to become a foster father to Peter Parker?” she questioned.

Tony shrugged his shoulders. “Foster father, legal guardian, adoption. I don’t care. I just want to take him home without the CPS, the police, FBI or whoever breathing down my neck.”

Mrs. Davis mouth dropped open. She needed a few more seconds to collect herself.

“Sir, if you want to foster a child there is a process and it’s not exactly simple.” There was some confidence back in the woman’s voice, “You need to fill out an application to become a foster parent and there is a checklist of various other items. We need references, background checks, a medical exam, your financial information. Then you need to take approved foster-parent training hours. We can try to speed things up as much as possible, but it will take at least three months until you would be approved.”

Tony felt his throat get dry.

“Three months? Not good enough. Peter isn’t going to spend another night in this hellhole.”

“Peter didn’t come home last night,” Mrs. Davis suddenly explained, anger crossing her face, “Was he with you?”

“Yes, he was with me,” Tony answered.

“You can’t just let a minor stay with you, Mr. Stark. He was missing and I had to call the police. I was worried. Where is he now?” Mrs. Davis wanted to know.

“He’s here. But he’s not going to stay here.”

“Is he fine?” Mrs. Davis asked.

“He’s not fine. What makes you think he is fine? That kid hasn’t been fine in weeks,” Tony told the woman. The woman considered his words for a moment.

“Sir, I’m always glad, when an adult steps up for one of the children in my care, because lord knows, they all need more support. But you we can’t ignore basic procedures. I will gladly walk you through all the steps necessary, but you can’t just march into my office and demand to take a kid with you.”

“Okay, here is the thing, Linda. Either you help me take him home now or will call my lawyers. Then you can continue this discussion with a team of New York’s most qualified and best paid attorneys. I guarantee you they will take this place apart.”

Mrs. Davis paled a bit. “Mr. Stark, I’m not your enemy and I’m certainly not Peter’s enemy. But there are just _rules._ ”

Before Tony could reply anything, there was a hesitant knock and then the door opened. Both adults turned to the door. Peter was in the doorway, hanging on his crutches. His eyes were still red from having cried earlier.

“Please, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, “It’s alright. Linda did nothing wrong. I can stay here. It’s fine.”

“No,” Tony yelled, “It’s not fine. She didn’t even give you a real bed and obviously she wasn’t feeding you enough. Kid, if you lose any more weight, you will evaporate.”

“It’s not her fault,” Peter defended the woman, “You know how much food I need. That’s not her fault. She couldn’t have known. And it was nice of her to let me stay here even though there weren’t any free beds. It’s the only group home close to my school.”

Some of Tony’s anger disappeared. Instead sadness settled in his stomach.

“Kid, you deserve better than this.”

“Mr. Stark, every one of those kids deserves better,” Peter told the man. Only Peter would think about other in this moment. God, this kid was too good for his own good.

“Peter’s aunt,” Mrs. Davis suddenly said, “Peter’s aunt is still his legal guardian. It’s still in her rights to sign over temporary guardianship to you, Mr. Stark. You should talk to her. I can give you all the forms and you go to the hospital with Peter.”

 

* * *

 

Tony wasn’t really surprised that the hospital Peter’s aunt was in was the same one Peter had fallen off earlier today.

Tony parked his car and gulped.

“What were you doing on the roof of the hospital, kiddo?” Tony asked softly as he looked at the façade of the building. It was too high.

Peter shrugged his shoulder. “I can hear her heartbeat. It’s nice.”

Tony went with a hand to Peter’s hair. Surprised the child looked at him and smiled weakly.

“Come on, kid. Let’s talk to your aunt and then go home.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked hesitantly, “I would understand, if you can’t.”

Tony grabbed one of Peter’s shoulder and turned him so that he was facing Tony.

“I can’t leave you in a group home, kid.”

“It’s really not that bad,” Peter kept insisting.

“Look, kid. I don’t have many people in my life I care about. Almost everybody I cared about either died or tried to kill me. But I care about you. Happy, Rhodey, Pepper and you are the closest things I have to family. Please. Let me do this for you.”

Peter stared at him, but then finally nodded.

“Thanks, kiddo. So, let’s go talk to your aunt.”

 

* * *

 

They stopped in front of a door in the third floor of the oncology ward. The hospital was too busy to register visitors and they just let them walk in, when they recognized Peter.

“So, that’s her room,” Peter informed Tony. “You really don’t need to do this, Mr. Stark,” Peter said again, but Tony just pretended not to have heard him.

“I’m going to talk to her first alone, alright kid? You wait here.”

“You know she isn’t your biggest fan. Maybe I should talk to her first,” Peter offered. Tony thought about it for a second but shook his head.

“I think this is a talk I need to have with your aunt. Alone. Put your headphones on,” Tony told the teenager. Peter blinked a few times in confusion.

“What?”

“But the headphones on. I don’t want you to eavesdrop, Spider-Kid,” Tony told him gently. He took the headphones around Peter’s neck and pulled them over his ears.

“Turn them on. It won’t take long. Afterwards you can talk to May.”

Peter nodded and sat down on a chair in the hallway.

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Stark,” May greeted him startled, when she saw the billionaire enter. “I… Why are you here? Is Peter alright?” Tony saw panic rising in her face.

She was only a shadow of the woman that Tony had called ‘Aunt Hottie’ not too long ago. Tony almost wouldn’t have recognized her. She was pale and too thin. There was no makeup concealing her eye bags. Her long dark hair was gone. Instead she was wearing a patterned head scarf.

“He’s fine,” Tony quickly calmed her, “He’s waiting outside. I wanted to talk to you first.”

She was sick, but her eyes were still alert and suspicious.

“What about?”

Tony didn’t remember having felt that nervous for a long time. He pulled out a pen and the papers Linda had printed out earlier. He put them on the small table attached to May’s hospital bed.

“I would like to be Peter’s guardian,” Tony told the woman.

May took the papers in her hand and quickly skimmed through them.

“You want to be Peter’s guardian? Why?” May questioned, her eyes still fixed on the paper.

Tony sighed and sat down on a chair next to May’s bed.

“I care about him. I can’t leave him at that group home,” Tony briefly explained.

May paused and looked at Tony, knitting her brows.

“How smart is he?” May asked Tony.

“What?” Tony asked in slight confusion.

“I mean I know that he’s smart. They told us he has a genius IQ when we enrolled him in his school. But I thought… they call all the kids gifted today, don’t they? I don’t understand most things he talks about or much less the books he reads, but I never thought… How smart is he exactly, that the great _Tony Stark_ wants to make him his kid?” May questioned.

“What? No,” Tony negated. “No, that’s not what this is about. Yes, he is smart. Bright kid. He has a great head on his shoulders. But this,” Tony put one finger on the papers regarding the guardianship, “has nothing to do with him being smart.”

May shook her head and smiled disbelievingly.

“Do you think I’m stupid, Stark? What else would you want from my kid?”

Tony felt the panic rise. Somehow, he had thought that convincing May would be easier. Anybody could see that Peter staying with him was better than that group home? Right? It was better, wasn’t it?

“I want nothing from him,” Tony told May, “I just care about him.”

“Somehow that’s hard to believe, Stark. Why would a genius billionaire, who plays hero in his free time, be interested in some random kid from Queens he just met eighteen months ago?” May retorted.

 “Because he’s a great kid,” Tony answered, and he knew that his argument sounded weak.

How was he supposed to explain his feelings for the kid? May only knew half the story. She didn’t know about Spider-Man, she didn’t know that Tony had trained and fought alongside the kid. He couldn’t explain to her his deep admiration for the kid that had told him, ‘ _when you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.’_

Peter had understood things with fourteen, that Tony had only realized at age thirty-eight after being kidnapped and tortured in a cave in Afghanistan. Tony admired the kid, but he also just wanted to protect him. Because Peter was the best this world could offer.

“I know that he’s a great kid, you don’t have to tell me that. I’m not going to sign those papers,” May informed him.

“Let’s ask him,” Tony said hastily, “He wants to live with me.”

“Of course, he would want to live with you. He’s a fifteen-year-old boy who had lost every male role model in his life. And you are, well, Iron Man. He was fanboying you since he was eight years old,” May countered.

“I’m not letting him live in a group home.”

“That’s not up to you,” May fought back.

“You know that he’s sleeping on field bed?” Tony snapped at her, “That he has panic attacks? That he doesn’t eat enough? That he tried Ecstasy last night?”

Tony felt guilty, when he saw May’s pained expression. The kid had probably not talked to her about his struggles at all.  He almost thought though that May would give in. But she didn’t.

“And you are going to make everything better? How?”

“Well, at least I can give him a real bed and feed him.”

“But you see, raising a child is so much more than that, Stark. He’s not a shiny toy for you to play with. What are you going to do, when things go bad? Or I guess even worse, when things become mundane? Boring? I know that Peter can survive the group home. He’s a brave kid. But I don’t think that he could survive losing another male role model. I swear to you, if you let him down, you will break him. And I’m not going to let that happen,” May spoke sharply.

“He’s about to lose you, isn’t he? You think he will survive that? _Alone_?” Tony retorted angrily.

Tears filled May’s eyes. “He’s a strong kid.”

“Not _that_ strong.”

May started crying and Tony felt utterly helpless. He wanted to comfort her, tell her that Peter was going to be fine, but he was also angry at her. Why wouldn’t she just sign? Give him a chance? Maybe he didn’t deserve that, but couldn’t she give him a chance for Peter?

Just as Tony thought that he couldn’t take her crying anymore, the door opened. A nurse entered the room with a tray of food. Tony was relieved that it wasn’t Peter who interrupted again. He really hoped that the kid was still wearing the headphones. Tony suspected that the kid wouldn’t forgive him for making his aunt cry.

May took a paper tissue, wiped her tears aware and cleaned her nose. She tried to appear strong in front of the nurse.

“How are you today, Mrs. Parker?” The nurse said softly, “Your nephew is sitting outside, listening to music. But I see that you already have a visitor.”

The nurse put the papers on May’s lap and placed the tray with food in front of the woman. “It’s chicken today. I’ve been told it’s actually quite decent.”

Then she turned to Tony. “And you are?” She asked, but when he looked him in the face. She froze.

“Oh my god, you are Tony Stark!” She exclaimed.

Tony smiled weakly, not in the mood for his usual banter with fans.

The nurse stayed flabbergasted.

“Mrs. Parker, is that Tony Stark?” She asked her patient and May sighed.

“Yes, that is Tony Stark. Peter has an internship with SI,” May explained to nurse.

“What? Really? Wow. I knew that he was a bright kid, but an internship with SI. Wow,” The nurse said completely amazed.

Neither May nor Tony responded anything.

“Wait,” The nurse continued, “Are you Peter’s boss?”

“Yeah, he is,” May answered slightly annoyed.

“Oh, wow. You must be really good with your employees.”

Both Tony and May now looked at the nurse questioning.

“Back when you had your operation, Mrs. Parker,” the nurse started explaining, her cheeks flushing pink at the sudden attention, “Peter had a panic attack. He said he heard that something going wrong. God, the poor kid was such a mess. After he calmed down, I told him that he should call somebody. I remember that he said that he was going to call his boss.”

She paused for a second before continuing.

“I remember that I had found it a little bit odd that the closest person to a child was his boss. But I’m glad that he has you, Mr. Stark. That you came here with him today. Thank you. That boy needs more people on his team.”

The nurse smiled at the two of them. “I need to continue working. I wish you a nice day. Enjoy your lunch, Mrs. Parker.” she told them before leaving the room.

Tony pinched his nose and took a deep breath. Peter had called him? When?

Then he remembered it. It was that one night, when Peter’s call had woken him up at two in the morning. Tony tried to recall their conversation. He should have listened closer, because the kid had been about to tell him, but Tony had just turned to the conversation back to Rhodey and the mission. How many times had Peter tried to tell him, but Tony just had never listened? And when Tony had finally found out, it had almost been too late. If his plane would have landed only half an hour later, Peter would have died. His kid would have died, alone, in the dark, in pain, because Tony had been too daft, too self-absorbed to just listen.

“God damn it,” Tony shouted and stood up from the chair. “Why hasn’t the kid just told me? Huh? Why is he so god damn stubborn? Why couldn't he have just told me?

He paced in the room agitated, while May just watched him. Tony slumped back onto his chair and buried his face in his hands, hiding his own tears. _Stark men don’t cry._

“Please, Mrs. Parker, May. I beg you. Just sign the papers. I can’t promise you I won’t make mistakes. But I can’t lose him. I just can’t.”

The clicking of the ballpoint pen might have been the best thing Tony had ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that most people who commented liked how I characterized Peter. I hope I didn't disappoint anybody with my portayal of Tony.  
> It was quite a long chapter without a lot happening except for dialogues. But I hope you enjoyed that. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for the support. I'm glad that so many people are enjoying this story.


	22. Chapter 22

Nervously, Tony led Peter down the hallway and towards the elevator.  In one hand he was carrying a cardboard box with all the things Peter had taken to the group home, his other hand was on Peter’s back. The elevator was his private one and lead to the last three floors of a skyscraper in Manhattan.

After Tony had sold the Avenger’s tower, Pepper had figured that Tony would still need a place to stay in New York City. She had bothered him with choosing an apartment for days. Tony hadn’t really been interested, but eventually had just put his finger on one of the six choices she had neatly printed and laid out for the man.

“I’ve actually only been in the apartment once,” Tony admitted to Peter. He left out though that the only night he had slept there had been after a Gala event, where Tony had gotten completely smashed. He had been stuck in the city in the middle of the night, because Pepper had made him program a ‘don’t drink and fly’ protocol. She had been stubborn about that and she hadn’t believed Tony, when he had told her that an autopilot could still bring him home safely.

 “Oh,” Peter answered, “The apartment is new?”

“Kind of. Pepper bought it, after we sold the tower.”

“It’s been empty? For months? Nobody stayed here?” Peter asked. Tony frowned a bit at the accusing tone in the teenager’s voice.

 “Well, yeah. I’m not big on Airbnb-ing my property out.” Tony replied.

Peter just stared at him and Tony was sure that the kid was about to say something more, but then the kid just closed his mouth.

The elevator stopped and opened his doors directly in the foyer of the three-storey apartment.

Peter’s eyes went wide, when they stepped out. Only then Tony realized that the kid had never been to any of his private living quarters. He had been countless times to his lab and the common area of the compound, but never in his private spaces.

Usually Tony liked to show off. He liked the astonishment of his guests and sometimes even their envy. Today though, he just wished that Pepper had bought him something humbler, simpler.

The kid’s big eyes wandered around the apartment, taking in the designer furniture, the ridiculous big painting hanging at a wall, the view over Manhattan. He moved carefully as if he feared that something would break just by touching it.

Peter didn’t say anything. At a different time, Tony guessed the kid would have been dazed, excited, stumbling over words, while expressing his amazement, but right now Peter just seemed tired. Sad. Utterly defeated.

“So, yeah,” Tony started nervously breaking the awkward silence, “I haven’t actually had a walk through the apartment myself, but FRIDAY can tell you where everything is. My lab is two floors under us, and this is the living room, the kitchen is over there, the bedrooms down the hall.”

Peter didn’t respond anything. He just stood there, completely still.

Tony gulped, feeling more and more anxious about the situation. Ever since he had put a foot into that group home, he had just wanted to take Peter home. Now the kid was standing in his living room, and Tony hadn’t had the slightest idea, what to do with him.

“So, Pete, what do you want to do? I could order some food? Or do you want to watch some TV? A movie? We can watch a movie. Or go to the lab. I’m working on suit Mark 50, you want to see it? I’m kind of experimenting with nanotechnology right now. I can explain everything to you.” Tony told the boy and he knew that his nervousness was obvious in his spluttering.

“Actually, Mr. Stark. Can I just go to sleep?” Peter asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony agreed quickly. The kid had almost died, and Helen Cho had stressed that he needed rest for his healing factor to kick in, “That’s a good idea. Cho said you have to sleep.”

Peter nodded and then looked at him expectantly. There was a second awkward pause.

“Uh, where should I sleep, Mr. Stark?”

Tony felt like an idiot. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Yeah. I will show you to your room.”

  

* * *

 

Tony was pacing his kitchen. Peter was already sleeping in the guest room.

Settling the kid in had been awkward. There had been no bed sheets and Tony had spent ten minutes looking through various cupboards for some sheets until FRIDAY had pointed out that fresh linens were in a storage room down the hall. Tony hadn’t put clean sheets on a bed on his own since he had left his boarding school at age 14. He had felt awfully clumsy, but Peter couldn’t do it himself with his broken ankle and cracked ribs. Peter had changed into his pyjamas in the bathroom and Tony had stiffly waited in his room, not really knowing if he should just leave Peter alone or say something more. In the end, he had just muttered a good night and fled the room.

Tony had never felt awkward around the kid. He had always felt confident that he was doing the right thing. And even when he done mistakes, he had felt secure, because he thought there was room for trials, time to figure things out. But Tony wasn’t sure if there were any more trials, any more time.

He stopped pacing and made a holographic screen appear.

“FRIDAY, please show me May’s medical files.”

“Yes, boss.” It didn’t take FRIDAY more than ten seconds to hack into the hospital’s system to access the files.

 Tony turned on the coffee machine, what probably wasn’t his best idea. His hands were slightly shaky, a result of his anxiousness bordering on a panic attack and not having slept or eaten since the day before.

Still, a coffee kept him alert and made it easier to procrastinate on eating. A gulped down two shots of espresso, while reading May’s medical history. Tony clenched his teeth as he realized that she had gotten diagnosed almost four months ago. Had the kid known about her cancer for months without telling Tony?

Tony had never been especially interested in medicine, but life circumstances had forced him to learn a few things. He had studied a few medicine books because of the arc reactor and later as he had cured Pepper from the Extremis virus. He understood enough about cancer to know that May’s diagnosis wasn’t good. Stage IV cancer was widely presumed as being terminal.

Anxiously Tony pulled out his phone and dialled Helen Cho’s number.

“Stark,” she answered irritated and Tony could tell that she had just woken up. Tony had forced her to a night shift after all. “This better be good, because I’m not getting out of my bed for anything less than a life and death emergency.”

“Sorry Helen, it kind of is a life and death emergency. I need you to set up a team of oncologists.”

Tony could hear Helen wrinkle herself out of her sheets and jumping out of her bed.

“What happened? Tony, who’s sick? Are you fine? Is it Pepper?” Helen questioned.

“The kid’s aunt,” Tony told her quickly.

“Spider-Man’s aunt?” Helen asked.

“Yeah,” Tony answered, “She's his only living relative and she has cancer.”

“Ok, how bad is it? What kind of cancer? Which stage? Is she already getting treated?” Helen wanted to know. Tony could hear turning on her computer in the background already.

“She got diagnosed with stage three cancer a bit less than four months ago. Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer, Adenocarcinoma, Stage IIIa,” Tony summarized the information in front of him, “She had a chemotherapy and radiation therapy. Three weeks ago, she got a lobectomy. It all seemed good until the nurses noticed that she got confused at times. They did a brain scan and found another tumor in her brain. Her doctor recommended a targeted radiation therapy, but they halted her treatment,” Tony had to read the next lines several times, “they halted her treatment, because… because her insurance wouldn’t pay.”

There was a pause on both ends of the line.

Helen was the first to talk again. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

Tony could here Helen sigh.

“Tony, it’s important that you manage expectations. If the cancer has spread to her brain, that means that her cancer is not stage three anymore, but four. Metastatic lung cancer incurable. Don’t promise the child something, we can’t keep.”

“There must be something we can do,” Tony insisted.

“We can do several things and some patients live for years with her diagnosis, but we can’t promise them a cure,” Helen explained to Tony, “Please, Tony. Don’t give him false hope.”

Tony gulped. “Yeah, right. I won’t promise him anything. But can’t you look into it? If we can build an android with a synthetic vibranium body, we can certainly also kick some cancers ass?”

“Tony, I will do what I can. But if I knew how to cure terminal cancer, it wouldn’t be called terminal anymore,” Helen told him softly.

Tony’s mouth felt dry. “Thanks, Helen.”

“Take care of the kid, alright?” She muttered softly, “I will get in touch with some of my colleagues. I will brief you about it tonight.”

 

* * *

 

 Tony stopped his car in front of the apartment building of Peter and his aunt. Tony probably should have better gone to sleep, too. He should have ordered some food, called Pepper to calm him down and then he should have gone to sleep. But Tony felt restless, his emotion switching between burning anger and massive guilt. He needed to do something, anything really.

Peter was still sleeping. FRIDAY was supposed to alert Tony immediately if he woke up and to tell Peter that Tony would be back home.

Tony stepped out of the car and went to the entrance, where Peter had finally after months ( _months!_ ) confessed to him that his aunt was sick.  Tony had come to get some more of Peter’s things. He had restraint himself from saying anything to the boy, but the cardboard box of things Peter had brought with him was pitiful. Peter had barely enough clothes for one week and aside from his schoolbooks, Peter had seemed to have only brought one book on inorganic chemistry on college level.

Peter had seemed so very uncomfortable in Tony’s apartment, that the man decided to bring some more of the kid’s things over hoping that it would make the kid feel better.

This time Tony didn’t bother trying to find the right bell to Peter’s apartment. Instead he pulled out a nanotechnology key, one of his newer creations. The key basically fit into every mechanical lock. The front entrance opened smoothly. He still remembered the number of their apartment from one and a half years ago, when he had first met Peter. He took the elevator up to their floor, walked the hallway down and stopped in front of their apartment door.

A voice in his head, which sounded awfully a lot like Pepper, reprimanded him that he should have first asked Peter for permission before entering the apartment. But then Tony decided that Peter wouldn’t mind. With all the things on the kid’s mind, Peter probably couldn’t care less if Tony snooped around in his messy teenage room or not.

After a second of hesitation Tony put his nanotech key in the lock and entered the apartment. It felt a bit wrong to just walk into someone else’s apartment and Tony went quickly to Peter’s room, not wanting to spend more time in the apartment than necessary. He opened the door.

Oh, no.

This was certainly not Peter’s room. Unless of course Peter had exchanged his Star Wars posters for some with a cartoon girl character, who was apparently named Dora the Explorer.

The room was painted pink. Dolls, stuffed animals and big Lego Duplo pieces were scattered around the floor. Startled Tony realized that he was standing in a room that was obviously meant for a little girl.

“Hello?” A tiny voice asked. Only now, Tony noticed a small girl, who was looking out of a little, pink tent castle. Before Tony could answer anything, something hard hit the back of his head. Tony winced in pain and turned around.

An Asian man was standing in front of Tony, holding up a broom. Behind him was a young, blond woman, looking at Tony in complete shock.

The man began hitting Tony with the broom. “Honey, call the police,” the man said to his wife.

“Wait!” Tony tried to protest, but the man shoved the brush of the broom in his mouth. Tony grabbed the broom with his right hand and tried to pull it away from the man. The man’s grip was tight. “Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to break in.”

The other man freed the broom again and swung it again against Tony’s head. The blow was harder than the ones before and Tony stumbled to the floor, stars dancing in his vision. Just as Tony considered activating the wrist gauntlet watch to gain the upper hand long enough to explain what had happened, the little girl stepped out of her toy castle.

“Iron Man,” she simply said and pointed at Tony.

The blows with the broom stopped.

The man with broom paled. “Wh… What the… hell? Tony Stark? What… what are you doing here?”

Tony stood up again and held his arms up in innocence.

“I’m very sorry,” he quickly started explaining, “I didn’t want to break in. I guess I have the wrong apartment. It’s a misunderstanding. I came to get some thing for a friend. I’m sorry. I will leave, alright? I will give you Pepper Potts’ number and she will compensate you generously for any trauma I have caused. Deal? Just call off your wife. I really don’t need to deal with the police right now.”

The man in front of him frowned in confusion.

“Peter Parker, you came for Peter Parker?” The man questioned. Tony guessed that the man knew the teenager, they were neighbours after all. May had probably told the neighbours about Peter’s SI internship.

“Yeah. Peter Parker. I thought I remembered his apartment number correctly. I’m sorry. Usually I don’t forget numbers,” Tony apologized.

The man nodded still in shock. He went to pick up his daughter. “Honey,” he called his wife, “It’s alright, don’t call the police. It’s Peter’s boss.”

The wife returned, the phone in her hand. She also recognized Tony now.

“Mr. Stark, oh my god. We’re so sorry. Are you alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, and I’m the one who’s sorry,” Tony answered, “I wanted to get some of Peter’s stuff, but I guess I got the wrong apartment.”

The man and the woman shared a look.

“This was their apartment before,” the woman explained softly, “We switched apartments a few months back.”

“Oh?” Tony asked.

“We needed a bigger one for this one,” the man rubbed his hand over the back of his daughter, “and the Parkers wanted to save some money with a smaller one.”

“Oh.” Tony said and swallowed, “What’s the number of their new apartment? I just want to get some of the kid’s stuff.”

“They don’t live there anymore either,” the woman explained, her face turning very sad.

“Where did they move to then?”

“Maybe… maybe you should talk to Peter about it,” the man replied hesitantly.

“Where did they move to?” Tony pressed.

The man’s lips turned thin; he didn’t want to answer. The woman looked down her feet.

 “To a shelter,” suddenly the little girl said.

“What?” Tony asked.

“A shelter. That’s where very poor people live,” the little girl explained to Tony.

 

* * *

 

Tony returned home feeling incredibly exhausted, he slouched down on a bar table next to the big kitchen island. Emotionally exhausted. Sad.

“FRIDAY, is he still asleep?” Tony wanted to now.

“Yes, boss. His heart rate and breathing suggests that he is in the REM period of his sleep cycle.”

Tony nodded. He had the urge to drink something, preferably something strong, but he knew better than to drink.

“Call Pepper, will you, FRIDAY?” Tony asked. His fiancée was currently in Silicon Valley, presenting the new Stark Phone. She had planned to stay there for at least two more days as she had scheduled several meetings with other tech companies.

“Calling Pepper Potts now.” Friday said and Tony could hear the dialling tone. Immediately Pepper picked up.

“Oh, nice that my fiancé finally calls me. FRIDAY informed me that your plane arrived last night. It’s been over twelve hours. And you didn’t care to call me? Or write me a message? We are still engaged, aren’t we?”

Tony took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“God, Pepper, I’m sorry,” Tony muttered, “But I was kind of busy.”

“What happened?” Pepper immediately asked.

“Hm?”

“I can hear it in your voice, Tony. Something happened. What is it?” Pepper wanted to know.

“I messed up, that’s what happened.” Tony told her.

There was a short pause.

“Alright Tony,” Pepper said, her voice stayed collected, “What happened? Who do I need to call? Your lawyers or SHIELD?”

“None? Both? I don’t know, Pepper,” Tony said, “It’s the kid. His aunt has cancer, and I didn’t know. I messed up.”

There was another pause.

“I really messed this one up.” Tony confessed, “And I don’t know if I can fix it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and kudos! :)
> 
> I will update soon.


	23. Chapter 23

 

Pepper and Tony had talked for about an hour. He had explained her in detail how Peter had almost died from an overdose, how he had then found out about Peter’s situation, how May had been sick, how his kid had been living below the poverty line and how he had been completely clueless.

“Pep, the kid hasn’t told me a thing. Not about his aunt’s cancer, not about them moving into a smaller place, not about the shelter, the group home. Nothing. I know that he had tried to tell me, but I was just being an ass. I put the kid on plane across the ocean to fight my fights. I didn’t even ask him how he was. Not even once. Instead I yelled at him, criticized him. I… I think I was bullying him. Pepper, I bullied a kid. I never wanted to be like my father, but here I am. Actually, I think I’m worse than Howard. At least he always met my physical needs. And Peter… God, Pepper, I think he was starving. He lost so much weight.”

“Tony, stop, listen to me,” Pepper told him, “You are not your father. I know you are not. You were understandably worried about Rhodey. You couldn’t have known what was going on in the kid’s life.”

“But you see, Pepper,” Tony argued, “I could have known. I should have installed a protocol to monitor Peter and his aunt. Something that would have alerted me when she got diagnosed with cancer.”

“And that would have been extremely illegal and straightforward stalking, Tony,” Pepper retorted, “What you needed to do and what you still need to do is to make it clear to Peter, that you are there for him. He should have told you earlier, much earlier. But it’s not too late. You can still fix this.”

“I can’t fix his aunt,” Tony replied.

“You couldn’t have fixed her four months ago either. You aren’t a doctor. You can’t cure cancer. But what you can do, is take care of the kid.”

“And how do I do that?” Tony questioned.

“Just be there for him. Talk to him, encourage him. Have dinner together. Be gentle. No yelling, you hear me? Don’t raise your voice at him.”

“He hates me.” Tony muttered.

“He doesn’t hate you, Tony.”

“He should hate me.”

“You’re s all he’s got right now, Tony. You are going to figure this out.” Pepper tried to convince him.

“What if I don’t? That kid deserves so much more than me,” Tony told her back.

“Maybe that’s true, Tony. The kid certainly doesn’t deserve to have lost so many people in his life. But you can’t change that. What you can do though is to be the best version of yourself. It’s going to be tough, Tony. He’s a kid. That means no slip ups, no drinking, no reckless actions, no endless hours in your lab. But I know that you can do that, because you would do anything for the people you care about,” Pepper told him, “That’s why I love you, hon.”

There was some bitter taste in his mouth. He knew that Pepper was right. He knew that he could do all that. But was it going to be enough? Was he enough?

“Thanks, Pepper. Are you… are you going to come home? To New York City?” Tony asked his fiancée.

“Yes, Tony. Of course. I’m can reschedule my meetings and I will come home as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, honey. You’re the best. I love you, too.”  


 

* * *

 

It was late afternoon already. Tony was still restless. He had read through May’s medical report ten times already. He had called a slightly unnerved Helen again, who couldn’t offer him any updates. Neither on May nor on Rhodey, who was still unconscious in the medical wing of the compound. Then he had ordered groceries. He had considered employing a cook, because he was pretty sure that kids couldn’t survive on take-outs only. But then he decided against it. The less people knew that Peter was living with him, the less likely it was that the media was going to find out about Tony Stark having a child in his care.

Instead he tried cooking himself. Dr Cho had told him that Peter should eat a kidney-friendly diet until his kidney had completely recovered, that meant food low on potassium, sodium and phosphorus. FRIDAY had searched for a few easier recipes on the internet and Tony had tried them out. It had been four hours. So far Tony had burned a potato soup, overcooked some rice and made some Broccoli Chicken Casserole, which tasted disgusting even though Tony had done everything the same way the guy on YouTube did. The only thing which kind of succeeded was some Blueberry Cake, which was only slightly burned on the edges. Could teenagers survive on Blueberry Cake only?

“Boss,” FRIDAY suddenly spoke up, “Peter just woke up.”

“Oh,” Tony looked at the watch. Peter had been asleep for almost eight hours now, “Tell him to come to the kitchen if he’s hungry.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tony sighed and mentally got prepared to talk to the kid again. What was he supposed to do? Tell him that he knew about the shelter? He touched his cheek were the broom had hit him earlier. Tomorrow he will have a bruise on his face. How is he gonna explain that to Peter?

Half an hour passed, and the kid didn’t come out of his room. Tony’s anxiousness just grew.

“FRIDAY, why isn’t he coming? What is he doing?” Tony asked his AI system.

“He’s still in his bed.”

Tony frowned, “Is he sleeping again?”

“No,” FRIDAY answered, “I believe he is crying, Sir.”

“Oh.”

 

* * *

 

 Tony knocked on Peter’s door. Tony’s throat felt tight. He wasn’t ready for another round of crying. Peter didn't answer to the knocking.

“Kid, I’m coming in. Alright?”

Again, there was no response. Tony just entered the room. As FRIDAY had said the kid was in his bed.

He was curled up at the edge of the bed, most of the bed left unused almost as if Peter didn’t know how to sleep on a King-sized bed. The heavy blanked was on top of him, covering the whole if him.

“Hey, Pete, you alright?” Tony asked as he slowly approached the bed. Peter didn’t reply anything.

Tony stopped in front of the bed, feeling incredibly useless. What was he supposed to do?

“Mind if I sit down next to you?”

Again, Peter didn’t say anything.

“Come on roll over, make some space for an old man to sit down.”

Peter complied and moved a bit more towards the middle of the bed without looking out from under the blanket. With a sigh Tony sat down on the bed.

“So, I talked to Dr Cho. She will set up a medical team for your aunt,” Tony explained to the teenager, “She will in the most capable hands of the country.”

This time Peter removed the blanked from his face. His eyes were red and swollen. It hurt to see his kid in tears.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“Sure kid. Of course."

Peter looked at Tony for a while and Tony he could see that he was hesitating about something.

“I… I was thinking,” Peter started, “I could pay you back one day. I mean… I can find a job after high school. I have like super-good grades and I’m sure I could find an okay job. We can like keep track of everything I cost you. FRIDAY can write it down.”

Tony clenched his teeth. Pepper had insisted that he shouldn’t yell at him, but Tony was close, so very close to shout at Peter for being so incredibly stupid.

“Nope, no, not happening.”

“Why not?” Peter protested, “I can totally pay you back.”

“Tell me, spiderling, I’m a bit rusty on how families work, but do parents usually make their kid pay them back?” Tony asked back.

“What?”

“Your friend’s parents, Ned, Ted, whatever. Do they have a list, where they write down what he costs them? Tuition fees, clothes, food, whatever? Do they do that?”

“What? No, of course not,” Peter answered, “But you aren’t my parent, Mr. Stark. That’s different.”

“I’m your legal guardian now. But, yeah, maybe you are right. Maybe we should talk to Linda and ask if foster children are required to pay their guardian back. You think that’s how that works?”

“I’m being serious, Mr. Stark. I want to pay you back.”

“Alright, wanna take an inventory on how much you owe me?” Tony barked back, “Let’s start with the fight against Cap. I employed you for three days in total and haven’t paid you back so far. How much is your hourly wage, Spider-Man?”

Peter looked at Tony with wide eyes. “Ten dollars per hour. That’s what the pizzeria pays me.”

When Tony popped up a questioning eye-brow, Peter quickly added, “I deliver pizza.”

Tony took a deep breath. Between school and Spider-Manning, how the hell does the kid have a time for a job?

“There are maybe a handful of people in the world who can do what you can do. That makes you a highly specialized person. Let’s say your hourly income is five hundred per hour? That’s already thirty-six thousand dollars only for the mission in Berlin. Then you saved my plane. The equipment in there was worth millions of dollar,” Tony told the boy.

“Most of the things got destroyed,” Peter argued.

“Uh-huh. You know what would have happened if bird-man would have successfully stolen my tech and sold it?”

Peter shook his head.

“The government would have been all over my ass. The accords are a mess, Ross is convinced that I’m withholding information about the rogue’s escape. Getting the plane stolen now? That would have probably been a perfect excuse for him to freeze my assets. So, if anything, I owe you money, Spider-Boy. Give me your bank information and I will transfer you a few million.”

Peter gave him a shy smile. It was the best thing Tony had seen in days, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“But Mr. Rhodes. It’s my fault that he is hurt so badly.”

Tony gulped. He went with his hands through Peter’s hair.

“Kid, no. That wasn’t your fault. You’re only fifteen. I shouldn’t have taken you to that fight. You are just a kid, Peter, and I put you in an impossible situation. Is that why you didn’t tell me? Because you thought I’m angry at you because of Rhodey?” Tony asked softly.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Peter muttered.

Tony continued to caress Peter’s hair and the teenager closed his eyes.

“I’m not angry at you. I never really was. But that’s not the only reason why you didn’t tell me, was it? May got diagnosed months ago, before Poland. Kid, I would have helped you. Maybe it’s my fault that you didn’t trust me, but I want you to tell me whenever anything is wrong, alright?”

Peter nodded. Then he crawled out of his blanket and sat next to the man. Suddenly Peter wrapped his arms around Tony.

The older man first stiffened for a second, before relaxing and putting his arms around Peter. They were sitting there for a while. Peter didn’t want to let go, but neither did Tony. At some point Tony felt the kid’s breathing get slower. He had fallen as sleep.

Tony closed his eyes as well. Just for a little nap.

 

 

* * *

 

A hand on his shoulder woke Tony up. Startled he turned his head until his eye’s met Pepper’s. She was smiling softly at him.

“Pepper,” he said, but she shushed him and pointed at his shoulder. Peter was leaning against him, his mouth open, snoring slightly.

Pepper sat down next to Tony’s legs and gave him quick kiss on the mouth.

“It’s twelve at night, Tony,” Pepper whispered, “FRIDAY told me that you both haven’t eaten anything today. Should we wake him for a mid-night snack or let him sleep?”

They both looked at Peter. With his face relaxed he looked so incredibly young.

“The kid needs to eat,” Tony muttered back, even though he really didn’t want to wake him, “He slept all day, though. Not sure if he will fall asleep again, if we wake him. But his healing factor needs food to work so I guess…”

Tony gently shook the boy’s shoulders. It took some time before Peter blinked his eyes open.

“Hey there, spiderling,” Tony said gently.

Peter rubbed his eyes, still not completely awake. “What… what’s going on?”

“We are going to have a small late-night dinner, Peter,” Pepper explained.

Peter seemed only to have noticed Pepper now. “Ms. Potts, oh. Hi. I’m… I’m… Peter. Peter Parker,” he explained hastily. He blushed. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly added, “Mr. Stark said that I could stay here for a while, I hope that’s fine with you, too.”

“Of course, Peter. You can stay with us as long as you need. And it’s Pepper by the way,” she answered, “Come on, let’s get some food in you both.”

"Yeah, I am actually pretty hungry," Peter admitted.

Tony smiled and ruffled his hair. "I hope you like Blueberry cake, kiddo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for comments and kudos! Next chapter Peter's POV again :)


	24. Chapter 24

The first thing he noticed, when Peter woke up was that the bed was incredibly comfortable. It wasn’t a shaky field bed nor the too soft, worn out mattress of the bunk bed in the shelter and it was also not the foldable, sleeping couch he had shared with May for a few weeks. In fact, it was the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in, even more comfortable than the one in the hotel in Berlin.

Peter blinked until his vision cleared. The room was big. It was furnished quite sober, but with what Peter guessed was designer furniture.  Morning light was coming through a big window glazing. The view was amazing. Peter could see the rooftops of most of Manhattan’s skyscrapers. In the background he could see the Brooklyn bridge.

Peter needed a few seconds to recall the previous day.

He was in Mr. Stark’s apartment.

The man had suddenly (re-)appeared in Peter’s life, demanded explanations and then dragged the teenager to his ridiculously big apartment. With a blink of an eye Mr. Stark had made Peter’s worries about money disappear.

Peter should be thrilled. This was all the teenager had wished for. It was basically any orphan’s dream. A rich man swoops into the orphanage and adopts the poor, bullied kid and they become a happy family. It sounded like the happy ending of cheesy Musical in a children’s theatre.

Peter should be happy, relieved. Except he wasn’t. There was this dreadful, nauseating feeling his stomach.

He was nervous.

Mr. Stark had suddenly appeared, but as suddenly as he appeared, he would certainly also leave again. Peter had the greatest respect for the man, but he also knew that the man tended to do rash decisions. And taking Peter home with him was one of those decisions.

May would die and then Mr. Stark would be stuck with him. His mentor wasn’t a bad person, he wouldn’t just kick him out to the streets, but he would quickly grow tired of Peter and regret becoming his guardian. Peter was a walking disaster, his life a clusterfuck of tragedies, his incredibly bad luck was about to take his fourth guardian.

Realistically, why would Mr. Stark bother with him? Why would anybody really risk having him as a child?

 Peter gulped. He knew that Mr. Stark wouldn’t admit that he had made the wrong call. But Peter knew that the cuddling session with Mr. Stark the day before had probably been a one-time thing. The teenager knew that Mr. Stark would eventually distance himself again.

He would probably let Peter live in the apartment, make Happy check up on him and Mr. Stark would return to his old life in the compound. That would be totally fine, Peter tried to convince himself. He was fifteen after all. He didn’t need somebody to babysit him and hold his hand every day. He basically just needed a roof over his head and enough food so that his crazy metabolism wouldn’t starve him.

Peter didn’t need more. He wanted more, but who was he kidding? Peter rarely got what he wanted.

Peter got up from the bed and tested the foot in the cast. It didn’t hurt anymore and thus Peter decided to ditch the crutches. He limbed towards the kitchen, already smelling something burned and coffee.

Mr. Stark didn’t immediately notice him, when Peter entered the kitchen area. The man was standing at the stove, cursing under his breath, while he was scratching something with a spatula in a pan.

It was a weird picture. Mr. Stark was still in his pyjamas, a black tank top, grey sweatpants and he was barefoot. It was an oddly domestic scene, almost unreal.

“Oh, good morning sleepyhead,” Mr. Stark greeted him, “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark. Thank you.”

Mr. Stark glanced up from the pan and smiled at him. Then suddenly he frowned.

“Where are your crutches?” he questioned.

“I… uh… my foot doesn’t hurt anymore. So, I thought it’s fine to walk on it,” he explained to his mentor.

“Huh, I knew you were smart, but I didn’t know that you had a medical degree,” Mr. Stark replied. He left the stove and walked over to Peter.

“You are not walking on that foot until Helen says you can, Spiderling. Come on, lean on me, I will walk you to the table and bring you your crutches after breakfast,” Mr. Stark said.

“I’m fine. Really,” Peter insisted. But Mr. Stark didn’t listen to him. He pulled Peter’s left arm over his shoulder.

“Let’s get to table. And don’t you dare to step on that foot.”

Peter obeyed and jumped slowly on his good leg.

“This is really unnecessary, Mr. Stark,” Peter complained, “I have like broken my foot a million times. It’s always good after one day.”

Mr. Stark didn’t say anything until they reached the kitchen island. Then he glared at Peter.

“What do you mean you broke your foot a million times before?” The man asked.

“I... You know… On patrols. Or when I was still developing my web-shooters. It’s not like I got the tensile strength right on the first try,” Peter told him. Mr. Stark’s frown deepened.

“Let me get this straight. You tested your web-shooters without knowing if they would actually carry you?”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “I thought they would carry me. Made a few mistakes in my calculations. But it’s no big deal. I have super-healing.”

Mr. Stark pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kid, you really need to work on your self-preservation skills.”

Before Peter could reply anything, his spider-sense spiked up. Peter turned to the stove.

“Mr. Stark!”

Just as the man turned his head back to whatever he had tried to fry, the pan caught fire.

“Shit,” Mr. Stark cursed and ran over to the stove. He rummaged through a cupboard until he found a bit lit and put it on the burning pan. The fire damped instantly.

Mr. Stark sighed in defeat.

“How about cereal, kiddo?”

Peter couldn’t supress a slight grin over Mr. Starks failed attempt to make breakfast. “I like cereal, that’s fine.”

Mr. Stark took no offence in Peter’s mischievous grin. Instead he smiled back sheepishly, almost as if he was proud of making Peter grin.

The man put two bowls on the table and two different boxes of cereal. One was sugary Cinnamon Toast Crunch and the other was something that looked to healthy to be tasty. Peter of course grabbed the ones he knew, the unhealthy, sweet cereal. Mr. Stark took it away from him immediately.

“Nope, Spider-Kids who fuck up their kidneys with MDMA only get to eat the healthy stuff,” his mentor said as he put the cereal out of Peter’s reach.

“But I feel fine. I don’t have any stomach pain anymore. I feel like completely normal,” Peter protested, longingly looking at the sugary cereals.

“Cho will come by tomorrow. She will tell you, if you are fine or not. Coconut milk or Almond milk, because that are your only choices,” Mr. Stark told him.

Peter’s shoulder slumped. He knew that arguing with Mr. Stark would be pointless. “I don’t know. I never had either of them.”

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes put some of the Coconut milk in a glass.

“Try it,” he ordered Peter. The teenager took drank it and had to grimace at the usual taste.

“It’s fine,” Peter muttered.

“Uh-huh. Your face tells me otherwise. Let’s try the Almond milk.” Mr. Stark put a sip of it into another glass. Peter tried it too. The teenager liked it a bit better.

“It’s not too bad,” Peter said.

“Almond milk it is.”

Mr. Stark then took Peter’s pulled and filled it up with the healthy cereal and Almond milk. Then he took his own bowl and the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. But just as he wanted to fill his own bowl, he looked at Peter. The man seemed to consider something, then put the Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal box away and filled it with the healthy cereal instead as well.

“Mr. Stark, it’s fine, you could have eaten the other cereal,” Peter said as they started eating.

“Nah, men who like to dress up in weaponized iron suits and fight aliens in their free time should probably also stick to the healthy stuff too,” Mr. Stark replied.

Peter smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

“Sure kiddo,” Mr. Stark smiled back and took a spoon full of the cereal. Peter could see that the man tried to keep a straight face while swallowing it.

In silence they were eating their cereal for a while.

“Where’s Ms. Potts?” Peter asked.

“She has a few business meetings about the new Stark phone. She was supposed to be Silicon Valley, but she came home early. Instead we had to fly in those hipster techies. She will probably be busy until the evening,” Mr. Stark informed Peter.

Peter nodded and turned back to the cereal.

“Did she… did she come back early because of me?” Peter questioned without looking up from his bowl.

Mr. Stark seemed to consider his answer.

“Yeah,” the man confirmed without any further explanation.

Peter swallowed. “This is too much Mr. Stark. It’s ridiculous. You made Ms. Potts come home earlier, then you _baked_ yesterday and you bought this food for me, which you obviously don’t like. It’s… it’s too much.”

“First of all, I didn’t make Pepper come here. At this point, I don’t think I could make her do anything. She wanted to be here. Second, I signed some papers yesterday, which specifically state that I am to provide you with food, shelter, clothing whatever. I think that includes a breakfast which will not kill you accidentally.”

“Cinnamon Toast crunch wouldn’t have killed me,” Peter argued.

“I’m not going to test that theory,” Mr. Stark said back, “Kid, you had a kidney-failure yesterday. Do you even get that? You are fifteen and we had to hook you up to a dialysis machine.”

Peter sighed and continued to eat his breakfast. It tasted pretty blunt.

“You know, Mr. Stark, you don’t have to do this. I know… I was like crying and all yesterday, but that was just because I was exhausted. It wasn’t all that bad. The group home was fine. So, if you want to change your mind and send me back, that’s totally fine with me,” Peter mumbled hastily, while keeping his eyes on the cereal. But when Mr. Stark didn’t reply anything, Peter hesitantly looked up. Peter could see that Mr. Stark had his jaw clenched.

Nervously Peter went on, stumbling over words, “I mean… all I need is for you to pay May’s treatment. Because I just can’t. But I can’t just let her die. She doesn’t deserve that. But I don’t need to live with you. Really. I was fine at the group home. I mean the field bed wasn’t a big deal, I kinda just imagined that I was on a camping trip, and Harvey is a bully, but it’s not like he can really hurt me. I’m Spider-Man and all. I’m sorry I cried and hugged you, I was just… tired. But now it’s all better. Seriously, Mr. Stark. I…”

“Stop,” Mr. Stark said sharply, “You weren’t fine at the group home, kid. And it’s not ‘all better now’. You are staying here. End of discussion.”

But Peter wasn’t convinced, he continued arguing, “I... I know you feel responsible for me because you recruited me for the fight against Captain Rogers, but this is not about Spider-Man. This has nothing to do with my powers or my suit or with me being a vigilante.  You shouldn’t have to deal with all my crap.”

“You are right,” Mr. Stark replied calmly, leaned back in his chair folded his arms in front of him.

“What?” Peter asked, a bit surprised that Mr. Stark had given in so easily.

Mr. Stark huffed. “You are right. This has nothing to do with Spider-Man. I mean, if this was only about me feeling responsible for your teenage super-hero ass, I could have probably left you at that group home. Maybe I would have donated some money to resolve that field bed situation and maybe I would have had to set you up with some food fund, so that you don’t accidently break your neck on a patrol because of low blood sugar. That’s how far my responsibilities towards Spider-Man go. But _this_ ,” Mr. Stark leaned forward and pointed between the two of them, “Is not about Spider-Man. This is about Peter Parker, an incredibly good kid, the very best kid I know, who deserves the world. Kid, I want you here. I didn’t _have to_ sign those papers, I _wanted_ to sign them. I want you here. I _need_ you here.”

Peter felt that his bottom lip started to tremble. He blushed in embarrassment, not wanting to cry again, but apparently, he had lost any control over his emotional expressions.

“But… what… what if you change your mind?” Peter stuttered.

“I’m not going to, kiddo,” Mr. Stark said softly, “Now, come on. Eat your breakfast.”

Peter’s eyes filled with tears again. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled. He tried to wipe his tears away with his forearm, but just new ones streamed out of his eyes. “I… sorry, I don’t want to cry, but I can’t control it. Sorry.”

Suddenly Mr. Stark stood up and walked over to Peter. He pressed Peter’s head against his chest.

“It’s alright, Peter,” Mr. Stark told him in a low voice, “I’m here, alright? As long as you need me, I will be there for you, kid.”

Peter chest burned with nervousness, stress. He just wanted to believe Mr. Stark’s soothing words. That he wouldn’t be alone. But he was so, so afraid.

It took him some time until the tears stopped. Mr. Stark’s fingers were stroking gently through his hair, just like May sometimes did it, only that the man’s fingers were bigger, less soft.

It took some time for Peter calm down.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter muttered.

“Nothing to be sorry about, kiddo,” the man answered. He pressed his lips against the top of Peter’s hair.

“Now, finish your breakfast, alright?”

“Can… we… can we go visit May? Please. I miss her.”

“Of course, Pete. Let’s eat breakfast and then we go to your aunt.”

 

 

* * *

 

Peter had already spent nine days in Mr. Stark penthouse. The days had gotten a rhythm. A painful, slow rhythm, but there was something resembling a routine. Mr. Stark had informed Peter’s school that he would be sick for the coming week. The man thought it was better for Peter to recover completely and settle in before returning to school. Dr Cho had made Peter wear the cast for another two days and kept him on a kidney-friendly diet for one week, even though Peter insisted that he was completely fine.

Peter mostly stayed in the flat, but every morning Mr. Stark drove him to the hospital to visit May and waited patiently until Peter was ready to go the apartment again.

They would usually be back for lunch. As it turned out, after some trials Mr. Stark wasn’t a bad cook. Peter suspected, that doing things was just how Mr. Stark dealt with stress. The next few days the man had spend hours in the kitchen, trying out recipes, and cooked food that Peter had never tried before and sometimes not even heard of.

It was kind of fun to watch Mr. Stark and Peter just spend his day watching the man prepare food. At the beginning the man had struggled with any step of any recipe. When Mr. Stark turned on a nine-step video on YouTube that explained how to cut a pepper, Peter had busted out in laughter.  But after only three days the man was a quite decent cook. When Mr. Stark had served a delicious lasagne for dinner, Ms. Potts hadn’t even believed that Mr. Stark had cooked it. Even after FRIDAY provided video proof, Ms. Potts insisted that the video must be false.

Cleaning was another issue. Apparently, they didn’t want to hire any stuff, claiming that it was better if nobody knew about Peter living with them. Peter had to agree. The last thing he wanted was to suddenly become the new gossip story for some morning talk shows. But Ms. Potts didn’t have time to clean and Mr. Stark apparently found cleaning incredibly boring. Both adults had also protested, when Peter offered to clean.

Instead Mr. Stark put some new wheels on Dum-E and made the robot clean. That went well for two days, until the robot decided to wipe a Pollock painting clean that was hanging in the master’s bedroom. Mr. Stark and Peter had laughed at the accident, pointing out that DUM-E couldn’t have known better since the painting consisted of actual stains, but Ms. Potts told them unnerved, that the robot had just destroyed some world heritage and that was nothing funny about that at all.

That was the end of DUM-E’s cleaning service. Now, there was an actual Iron suits, mark 45, cleaning the three-storey apparment. Pepper still wasn’t happy about that solution, mumbling something about that a suit once tried to kill her, but after a few days she admitted that the suit was actually doing a pretty fine job.

There was a lot of fun and excitement involved, when living with Tony Stark. The man just didn’t do ordinary even though that was what he was probably trying to do right now.  Peter honestly enjoyed spending time with the man. Mr. Stark would constantly crack some jokes and do silly things, as if it was his life’s aim to make Peter laugh.

Peter knew he should feel good. Mr. Stark was trying is very best to make Peter feel comfortable and at home. Peter wished to just get comfortable. The man was trying so hard, but Peter just didn’t feel comfortable. He didn’t feel at home. Peter had been laughing more often in the past week, in which he had been living with the couple, than he had in the four months before. But somehow, he was also crying more. He couldn’t control it and it always started randomly.

He hated to see Mr. Stark’s disappointed face every time tears rolled down his face. Mr. Stark would always rush to hug him or try to soothe him. But the more often it happened, the more embarrassed Peter grew. He was behaving like five-year-old instead of a fifteen-year-old.   

“You should go back to school on Monday,” Mr. Stark said after their second Saturday together. They were both sitting on the couch. Peter was leaning against Mr. Stark’s chest. It was evening, they had just been watching a movie, when Peter had started crying again. They had to stop the movie and it had taken Peter quite some time to calm down. It hadn’t even been a sad movie. But in the middle of the movie Peter had remembered that he had actually seen the movie before, with Ben and May in the cinema.

Peter stiffened at the suggestion to go back to school.

“Pepper and I discussed it. We think it would be good for you, if you get back to some routine, Pete,” Mr. Stark said. “See your friends and all?”

Peter gulped and nodded. He didn’t though tell Mr. Stark that he didn’t really have friends anymore. His whole class was probably very pissed at him. He had bolted out after they had given him presents and then he had shoved Ned so hard that the boy had gotten a concussion. His scholarship was probably going to get revoked due to his suspension. Mr. Stark didn’t even know about the suspension. Peter was also very sure that he had been kicked out of the Decathlon team.

Peter still had Bobby though. Maybe Bobby would hang out with him. Guiltily, Peter thought how he had only answered the other teenager in very short messages ever since Mr. Stark had appeared in his life, not knowing how to explain everything to Bobby.

“Yeah, back to school on Monday, kid?” Mr. Stark asked.

“Yeah, school sounds good.”

Mr. Stark turned on the movie again and Peter tried his best to keep his breathing calm, so that his mentor wouldn’t notice that Peter was close to getting a panic attack.

 

 

* * *

 

Peter woke up very early on Monday morning. He felt more nervous than on his first day of school. He was standing in front of the mirror. He was trying out his third outfit now. He scrawny, nothing seemed to fit right anymore. His hair was also a mess and no matter how much he tried to comb it, it just looked ridiculous. Too long, too curly, too messy. He had sneaked out some hair gel from Mr. Stark’s bathroom, but apparently, he applied too much as his hair just looked greasy afterwards. Peter had to wash his hair again.

In the end, he decided to leave his hair how it was, he just didn’t know how to style it. He took his best jeans and his favourite punny T-Shirt. He hesitated with putting on the NASA sweatshirt his classmates had bought him, but then he decided it was the best way to show them that he was actually grateful. Also, it was his warmest piece of clothing.

Peter then sorted through his books and exercise books four times. He had missed almost a month of school. How is he ever going to catch up?

“Boss says that breakfast is going to be ready in two minutes.” FRIDAY informed him.

“Thanks, Fri,” Peter answered, trying not to sound as anxious as he felt.

Peter went to the kitchen. It smelled like pancakes.

“Ready for your first day back, kiddo?” Mr. Stark asked.

Peter nodded quickly. Mr. Stark poured him some hot cocoa and stapled five pancakes on the teenager’s plate. He poured maple syrup over it, already knowing Peter’s preferences.

“So, I will drive you to school and pick you up. Does that sound like a plan?” Mr. Stark suggested.

Peter nodded again. Happy had extended his holidays for two more week, after apparently having found the perfect beach on a Greek island. But anyway, Mr. Stark probably wouldn’t ask the man to drive Peter to school. He was head of security now and driving Peter Parker to school really wasn’t in his job description anymore.

Peter quickly ate the pancakes, not really paying attention to the food as he nervously thought about the upcoming day.

Mr. Stark finished as quickly as Peter, but the man also ate considerably less.

“Let’s go, Spider-Boy,” Mr. Stark said as soon as Peter had also drunk his cacao. The walked to the elevator, when Mr. Stark suddenly stopped him and looked at him with one raised eyebrow.

“You are not planning on going to school like that, are you?” Mr. Stark questioned.

“What?” Peter asked confused and looked down at himself.

Mr. Stark breathed out. “Kid, I don’t care how you run around in the house, or when we visit your aunt, but…” Mr. Stark stopped mid-speech.

“Are those your best clothes, Pete?” He asked sounding incredibly exhausted.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Peter wanted to know, panic rising in his chest.

“Kid, you have been wearing that sweatshirt four days in a row now. And your shoes are falling apart.”

“I like the sweatshirt and my shoes are fine,” Peter protested, but suddenly growing even more insecure. Did he really look that obviously bad?

Mr. Stark looked at him for a moment very tiredly. “Sorry kiddo, I should have noticed earlier. We should buy you some new clothes.”

“I don’t need new clothes.”

“Yes, you do. Also, you need a coat. It’s winter, a sweatshirt is not enough. Come on, we have a few minutes to find you some clothes. I should have some things which fit you,” Mr. Stark said.

“No, really, Mr. Stark. I can’t suddenly turn up in some fancy designer clothes in school!” Peter argued, but Mr. Stark just pushed him towards his bedroom. Mr. Stark didn’t listen to any of Peter’s protests and led the boy to his walk-in cupboard.

First, Mr. Stark gave Peter a thick winter coat to try on. But as soon as Peter put it on, Mr. Stark started smirking. Peter blushed as he looked into the mirror. He was swimming in the thick, down coat. He looked like a little boy trying on his father’s clothes.

“Not exactly your size, huh Spider-Baby?” Mr. Stark commented and took the coat from him.

The next thing he tried was leather with warm, fluffy lining. It fitted him better in size, but sure as hell Peter would not turn up in a leather jacket to school. Mr. Stark pretended for be offended for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ms. Pott’s jackets. It was a dark blue, gender-neutral sports jacket. It looked fine on Peter and the teenager agreed to wear it. Ms. Potts and Peter also had the same shoe size and he ended up wearing her sport shoes as well, leaving his torn converse at home.

 

 

* * *

 

It was a quick, silent ride too school. Mr. Stark was probably speeding a few times, because Peter was running late. Just one block before his school, Peter asked Mr. Stark to drop him of there.

“I mean,” Peter explained to the man, “how am I going to explain to everyone why you are brining me to school. Your car is pretty flashy and even if I try to use the internship as an excuse… It would be a bit weird.”

Mr. Stark slowed his car and seemed to think about what Peter had said.

“Hm, I think you might be right. Don’t want your friends to tweet about this or something. The media wouldn’t let this go.”

A parking spot by the street just got free and Mr. Stark parked his car. He took a deep breath.

“You will be alright from here, Peter?”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter answered and tried to smile.

“Good. I’m going to pick you up after school. Your schedule says school ends at four. Is that correct? Do you have like Decathlon or something like that?” Mr. Stark wanted to know.

“Four is fine, Mr. Stark. Thank you.”

“Alright, Spider-Boy. I will be here at this spot at four to pick you up. You have your phone, right? Wait, lunch money. You need lunch money. I will give you some lunch money.” Mr. Stark took out his wallet.

“I…actually don’t need lunch money,” Peter told the man and blushed, “I get lunch for free.”

“Oh? They give lunch for free in high schools nowadays?” Mr. Stark asked completely clueless.

“They only give free lunch to some students,” Peter explained embarrassed, “You know… students with not so much money.”

At that Mr. Stark seemed to get angry. He took out a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet and pressed it into Peter’s hand.

“Well, you have money now. So, no free lunch for you anymore. You are going to buy your lunch,” Mr. Stark snapped at him.

“Mr. Stark, I…” Peter wanted to give him the money back, but Mr. Stark didn’t let him speak.

“Nope. Get out of the car. You are running late for school. Now, hurry,” Mr. Stark rushed him.

Peter nodded nervously and climbed out of the vehicle, closing the door behind him hesitantly. He started walking down the street. He didn’t have to turn around to know that Mr. Stark was watching him walk away for quite a while.

 

 

* * *

 

When Peter heard Mr. Stark’s car drive away, Peter slowed down. He stopped in front of a big shop-window and looked at his reflection. Ms. Pott’s jacket looked good at him, but somehow that was not him. The jacket was warm and soft, but somehow it was still uncomfortable. It was too soft if that made any sense.

His hair still looked stupid. Peter went through his hair a few times, trying to straighten it, but it just kept looking funny.

What would his classmates think? First they learn that his aunt is sick and that he is so poor that he could afford a backpack, then he bolts out, gets suspended for two weeks for hurting his best friend and then he doesn’t come back for another ten days, even after his suspension ended.

What would they think, when he suddenly turned up in Ms. Pott’s  super-expensive jacket and shoes? They would think he had been lying. Seeking attention.

Peter felt for the money in his jacket. The hundred-dollar bill somehow felt wrong. It was only a piece of paper, but it seemed so heavy in his pocket, somehow radiating heat on its own. Peter gulped and moved away from the shop-window and continued to walk down the busy street.

When he passed by a homeless person, who was asking for money for food, Peter put the hundred-dollar bill in the man’s cup. The man seemed to need a few seconds to register what amount of money Peter had just put in the cup. The man sprung to his feet, ran towards Pete, who had already walked further, and tried to give it back to the teenager. Peter just shook his head vehemently. Then tears started burning in the teenager’s eyes again and the homeless man just froze in confusion. Peter started running.

He didn’t run to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out pretty long. :) I actually considered splitting it up, but then one chapter would only have been the morning scene in the kitchen. How the hell was only that scene 2400 words? 
> 
> Thank you for all your reviews. I can't tell you enough how much they brighten my day and motivate me.
> 
> Have a great week, my lovelies!


	25. Chapter 25

When Peter had woken up that morning, he had really thought he would go to school. Even after he had left Mr. Stark’s car, he had been determined to go to class. He had been scared and nervous, but he hadn’t planned to back down.

He was running and he didn’t even know where to. Some people yelled after him, as he jumped into their way or squeezed through crowds in the street, but Peter just kept going. His lungs burned as he breathed in cold air.

He knew that it was incredibly stupid. Mr. Stark would be angry with him as soon as he found out. And he _would_ find out, being his legal guardian at all. The school would call Mr. Stark and then the man would probably track his phone and pick him up with an Iron Suit or something. Mr. Stark would be angry, no probably furious.

Peter ran until suddenly his legs stopped suddenly. He was in front of his old apartment building. Longingly he looked up to the window that had once been his. It was open, the light was on even though there was always a lot of sun coming into the room at this time of the day.

He just wanted to go home.

He just wanted to go up the few flights of stairs and open the door to their apartment. He wanted May to be sitting on their couch, smiling at him as she dried her long, brown hair. He wanted to smile back at her, while she told him that she had to hurry to work.

He wanted Ben to come out of the kitchen and greet him. His uncle would hug him, kiss him on the forehead, then take Peter’s glasses from his nose, clean them for him and complain how the boy always got them dirty.

Peter just wanted to go home.

But it wasn’t their apartment anymore. Ben was dead. May was lying in a hospital bed, cancer slowly killing her. Peter had lost his home. Home wasn’t a place he could just visit, but a moment in time to which he could never return to.

He was standing in front of the apartment building for a long time. When he started to get cold, he considered going back to school. But he was already late enough that the school would inform Mr. Stark. The damage was kind of already done anyway. He didn’t want to come in late, interrupt the class, mumble an apology to his teacher, while his classmates looked at him scornfully. He didn’t want to be send to principal Morita’s office and receive detention. Peter knew that all that would happen eventually and that he was only delaying it, but Peter told himself that a later time he would feel more ready to face his classmates, teachers and principal Morita.

Peter took out his phone. Peter thought about going to May, but he knew that Mr. Stark had told her that he was going to school today. His aunt would only be angry with him, if Peter turned up at the hospital now. Instead Peter started typing a message.

 _“Hey, Bobby,”_ he wrote, _“could I, I don’t know, hang out at your place?”_

The older teenager answered immediately, _“Hey Pete, I’m at school. What about you? Are you still suspended?”_

 _“Yeah,”_ Peter wrote back, feeling his heart rate accelerate as he lied to his friend, _“I would like to work on our project a bit more.”_

 _“Dude, I thought they only suspended you for two weeks? You’ve been out of school forever,”_ Bobby replied.

 _“Please, can I just go to your place?”_ Peter asked again after dismissing the idea of constructing another lie.

This time it took Bobby a bit longer to answer.

_“Yeah, Pete. That’s fine. My mom keeps her key under the neighbour’s doormat. You okay? I can come, if you want?”_

_“I’m fine. You don’t have to come. Thank you so much!”_ Peter wrote to the other teenager.

 _“Alright. Feel free to eat anything in the fridge,”_ Bobby messaged him and added after a pause, “ _And don’t open the door for anyone.”_

 

* * *

 

Bobby’s apartment was only minutes away from Peter’s old one. Peter found the key under the doormat as Bobby had explained. At first it felt very weird to be in the apartment without Bobby. Peter never really looked at things in Bobby’s apartment, knowing that the other boy was embarrassed about the mess and the poor state of most of the things in the apartment. There were beer cans on coffee table. Peter knew that Bobby usually cleaned up before Peter came. There were also three familiar shot glasses on the table and the sharp smell of vodka penetrated the enhanced teenager’s nose.

Pete went to the kitchen and took a glass of water. Peter knew that he wouldn’t take any food, but he opened the door to the fridge anyway. The fridge was almost empty except for some beer, a bottle of vodka, some strawberries which didn’t look to good anymore and a stack of ready-made pizzas.

When, Peter returned to Bobby’s room, he sat down on Bobby’s desk and started studying the newest scribbles of the senior high-school student. It took Peter only minutes to completely immerse himself in his work.

Shortly, after lunchtime Bobby came home. Peter knew that the teenager was probably skipping classes again. Both teenagers pretended as if everything is normal. Just sometimes Peter would catch Bobby eyeing him with worry.

 

* * *

 

The afternoon at Bobby’s passed quickly. They hadn’t talked much, except of course about the project. Bobby wasn’t one to pry much, luckily. Peter had no idea how he could explain to Bobby the newest twist in his life. From a group home to living in a Iron Man’s penthouse, that was a hard story to explain.  Around half past three Peter left and walked back to meeting point Mr. Stark and Peter had agreed on. Mr. Stark had been early. Peter gulped as he approached the car. The man would be furious. The school had certainly called him. Peter was only surprised that Mr. Stark hadn’t immediately called him or tracked his phone or something.

Hesitantly, Peter opened the door. He took a deep breath, readying himself for long lecture by his new guardian.

But nothing happened. Peter opened the door of the car. Mr. Stark was just smiling at him.

“How was school, Spiderling?” he asked.

Mr. Stark didn’t know. The school hadn’t called him. Why? How?

“Huh?”

“School, how was school? Good, bad? Manageable?” Mr. Stark questioned further.

Did Mr. Stark really not know? Was he testing Peter? Trying to find out if Peter would lie to him?

But the man’s face seemed relaxed. The smile didn’t seem fake.

“School was fine,” Peter muttered. For a few more anxious seconds Peter expected Mr. Stark to lash out at him, tell him that he was a terrible liar and that he was very disappointed in Peter.

“Come on in,” Mr. Stark told him instead, “How about we do something fun, Pete? To celebrate your first day back in school? How about a movie? I haven’t been to a cinema in fifteen years I think.”

Mr. Stark turned to Peter and looked at the teenager hopefully. Peter’s stomach squirmed with guilt. How hadn’t the school informed Mr. Stark? Why was Mr. Stark so nice to him? Peter didn’t deserve that.

“I… can we just go to my aunt?” Peter mumbled.

Mr. Stark’s smile fell. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, kiddo.”

 

* * *

 

The next day Peter really hadn’t planned to skip school either. But just like the day before, as he walked down the street, he got nervous again. He found himself walking to Bobby’s apartment again. It was easy to just get immersed by their chemistry project. He read through Bobby’s extensive book collection and when Bobby returned home in the early afternoon, he just gave Peter a sceptical look, but didn’t question him.

It was a project for a good cause. He wasn’t harming anyone by not going to school, Peter told himself.  It wasn’t all that to skip school.

But guilt hit him hard again, when Mr. Stark picked him up after his supposedly second day of school. The man greeted him cheerily and started questioning him about Peter’s school day.

As soon as they arrived in Mr. Stark’s apartment, Peter excused himself and vanished into his room, claiming that he needed to do homework. Just in case FRIDAY was watching Peter sat down with a book on his desk.

Why hasn’t the school called Mr. Stark yet? Maybe they didn’t have the contact information of his new guardian? Maybe they tried calling the phone in the old apartment?

Or maybe they had forgotten about him? Peter had been to school for almost a month now. They probably haven’t even noticed that he was supposed to be back.

Peter clenched his teeth and tried to focus on the book in front of him.

* * *

It was late evening when there was a knock on the door.  

“You done with homework?” The man asked as he peeked through the door.

“Uhm, almost,” Peter muttered quickly closing his notebook on his chemistry project. Mr. Stark walked into his room and looked over the teenager’s shoulder. Frowning a bit as he looked at Peter’s chemistry book.

“They sure give you a lot of homework,” Mr. Stark commented, “How are your classmates managing if even you need the whole afternoon for doing your homework?”

“I, uh, need to catch up, you know? That’s why it takes me so long.”

Mr. Stark hummed.

“Something is wrong,” the man concluded, “There’s something you aren’t telling me. Come on, out with it, Spider-Boy.”

Peter blushed. When did Mr. Stark get so good at reading him?

“Nothing is wrong,” Peter replied quickly. His mentor seemed to think for a moment, then sighed and squeezed the teenager’s shoulder.

“Alright, kiddo. But if there is something wrong, please just tell me?” Mr. Stark asked. Peter gulped. The feeling of uneasiness was growing in the teenager’s stomach. Why was Mr. Stark being so perfect, while Peter was being so bad.

Mr. Stark closed his book. “I think it’s been enough of studying. Come on, join me in the kitchen while I finish dinner. Pepper is going to be home in twenty.”

“Uh, yes, Mr. Stark.”

 

* * *

On his “third” day Peter had really, really planned on going to school. He was convinced, that he would have gone, if Mr. Stark hadn’t suddenly mentioned his clothes again. Mr. Stark had just driven him close to the school again. Peter was just about to leave the car, when Mr. Stark stopped him.

“Pepper is going to pick you up today,” Mr. Stark told him.

“Oh. Uh. That’s good,” Peter replied.

“You two are going shopping,” Mr. Stark explained further, “Pepper and I have discussed it last night. You need new clothes. Unfortunately, tabloid reporters are attracted to me like flies to manure. Since we’re trying to keep this whole thing here low profile, we thought it would be for the best if you go with Pepper.”

At that Peter’s brows furrowed. “I’m fine. I don’t need new clothes. Really. My clothes are good.”

“There aren’t,” Mr. Stark said in a slightly annoyed tone, “Kid, your T-Shirt has holes.”

“It’s trendy,” Peter said defensively, but Mr. Stark just sniggered.

“Believe me, I know what trendy looks like and your clothes are not.”

“I don’t want knew clothes,” Peter tried to argue, but without success.

“Well, that’s not really up to you. Either you go with Pepper this afternoon to buy new clothes or I will order you clothes online. And I don’t think you want the latter. Unless you want to start wearing designer suits to school of course…”

“Fine!” Peter snapped, “I’m going with Ms. Potts.”

He took a deep breath to calm, took his backpack from the backseat and then froze.

“Uh, Mr. Stark. Doesn’t the media also like follow Ms. Potts. She was like three times already on the cover of the TIMES magazine,” Peter questioned nervously.

Mr. Stark shrugged his shoulder, “Pepper has like twenty nephews and cousins close to your age. If somebody ask, you’re her nephew whatever. Nobody will lose it because Pepper is seen with a teenager.  It’s pretty hard to write a convincing story about woman having an illegitimate, secret child. But if they see the two of us together…There will be either be a story about you being my lovechild or worse an escort. And I guess neither of us want those kinds of rumours being printed in the Daily Bugle.”

“Oh, yeah.” Peter muttered and grew anxious at the idea that the media might spin a crazy story about who he was.

“So, Pepper is going to pick you up exactly at his point after school. She’s going to take you to your aunt afterwards.”

“Uhm, yeah. Thanks. See you tonight then, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark smiled at him.

“See you later, kiddo. Don’t annoy your teachers too much with that smart-ass brain of yours.”

Peter smiled back weakly and climbed out of the car.

 

* * *

 

Mr. Stark drove away quickly, not watching Peter walk away, how he had done it the first two days. Peter stopped again at the same shop window as at the first day.

Peter opened his borrowed jacked and looked at the T-Shirt he was wearing. There were a few holes in them. There had been clothes moths in the women’s shelter. May had tried to fight them with lavender bags, but it had been too late for most of his T-Shirts.

But it didn’t look to bad, did it?

He poked his pinky through one of the holes. It wasn’t too bad, was it?

It wasn’t like his classmates didn’t sometimes have worn-out clothes. Ned had like this favourite T-Shirt, that he kept wearing even though there was a ketch-up stain on it.

Peter closed his jacket again and tried to fix his hair. He took a deep breath. He had to go to school. Sooner or later Mr. Stark would find out that Peter was skipping school and then his mentor would be disappointed. Peter continued walking towards the school. He was across the street of his school. It was loud like always, when the students arrived.

It was very crowded. Cars stopped in front of the school, parents said goodbye to their children. Little groups formed in front of the school like they always did before the school bell rang.

Peter recognized Ned quickly between all the other students. The other boy was standing next to MJ and a few more members of the Decathlon team. They were laughing about something. Ned looked happy.

Then Peter saw Bobby. The older teenager also had a group of friends and suddenly Peter felt embarrassed. He had always known that Bobby was actually very popular. But between learning about Bobby’s background and the teenager’s love for chemistry Peter had forgotten that Bobby probably had tons of friends.

Peter took a last look on Ned. Betty was suddenly standing between Ned and MJ.

The blond girl took Ned’s hand in hers and gave Peter’s former best friend a kiss on his cheek.

The school bell rang and Midtown students and started heading into the building. Only Peter ran the other way.

 

* * *

 

As promised Ms. Potts was waiting at him in the afternoon at the spot, where usually Mr. Stark dropped him off. Anxiously Peter walked over to the car.

“Hello Peter,” Ms. Potts greeted him smilingly, “How was school today?”

Nervously Peter climbed into the car. “Uh, fine.”

Ms. Potts kept smiling as she turned on the motor of the Audi.

“That’s good. So, what subject did you have today?” she asked as she turned around to look at the traffic.

Peter gulped, trying to remember what subject he should have had that day.

“Maths, English, Spanish, Biology,” Peter told her.

“Oh, I loved English and Spanish,” Ms. Potts told him, “But I guess you favour science more.”

“Yeah,” Peter replied nervously fidgeting with one of his sleeves. He didn’t want to talk about school. The guilt of having not gone to school for four days now was almost unbearable.

Luckily Ms. Potts seemed to notice that he wanted to change the subject.

“So, I was thinking about getting you a new coat, some shoes, a pair of boots, pants and few new T-Shirts. But if you come up with anything else, just tell me.”

Peter nodded, not feeling comfortable at all in the car with the CEO of SI on their way to probably a far too expensive shop.

 

* * *

 

Ms. Potts pushed him through the doors of a department store in Midtown Manhattan. But not just a normal department store, but one of those super luxurious ones, where only Manhattan’s richest went shopping, while a crowd of tourists walked through the store admiring the luxury articles by famous brands.

 Ms. Potts was wearing big, dark sunglasses, probably trying to be inconspicuous.

“It’s less crowded upstairs,” Ms. Potts said as she led Peter to an elevator, “Usually I would go to a smaller shop, but since you need so many different things, I thought this might be right.”

“Ms. Potts,” Peter tried to stop her, “This is really… this place is too expensive, really. Can’t we just go to… I don’t know to H&M?”

Ms. Potts turned to him and took of her sunglasses. She looked softly at him.

“Peter, I can’t exactly go to H&M. One good thing about places like this is that they offer privacy. Nobody is going to ask questions or ask for autographs or take pictures. Trust me, in H&M will not get to buy anything. And money is really no issue, Peter,” Ms. Potts told him gently.

Peter pressed his lips together. He understood Ms. Potts arguments, but he felt just really uncomfortable in the store.

“I could go alone to a cheaper store,” Peter offered.

“We are doing this together, Peter,” Ms. Potts said, “Come on. You are living with billionaires, kid. Don’t be shy.”

They took the elevator to one of the upper floors with a collection of male clothing. This level was much emptier than the crowded ground floor. A doorman was standing next to the elevator and greeted them with a nod.

“Ok, Peter,” she said decisively. “How about you browse through the things and pick out a few things you like. I will go and look for a few things for Tony, he asked me to bring him some new T-Shirt since he got a few ruined trying to cook. The price really doesn’t matter.”

Peter nodded shyly. “I will be over there, if you need me,” Ms. Potts pointed to part of the shop with shirts. 

The teenager nodded again. Ms. Potts smiled a last time to him and left the teenager standing there in the middle of the store.

 

* * *

 

Peter didn’t feel comfortable at all. He barely dared to touch the clothes on display. The cheapest thing he had seen so far was a T-Shirt for ninety dollars and he hadn’t even liked it. He hadn’t picked out a single item, the prices just seemed ridiculous to him. Ms. Potts has gotten lost somewhere in the store, Peter had lost the sight of her.

It was warm inside of the store. Peter took of his jacket Mr. Stark had made him borrow from Ms. Potts and was holding it over his arm.

He was looking at some designer jeans, when he felt some eyes on him. He turned around and saw a grim looking shop-assistant staring at him.

“I don’t think this is your price category, kid,” the woman said. She walked over to him. “I would ask you to please leave.”

Peter blushed. “What?”

“This is not a playground. If you are not planning on buying something, I would like to ask you to leave,” the sales woman informed him.

“What?” Peter was a bit taken a bit. His face felt hot. “No, I… We are going to buy things.”

The woman’s gaze fell on the jacket Peter was carrying. The woman’s face turned from annoyed to angry.

“What are you doing with this?” she asked and suddenly took the jacket from his, “You are wrinkling it.”

The woman shook the jacket a few times and then glared at him enraged. “Did you plan to steal this?” she questioned him. “You removed the labels.”

 “What?” Peter’s eyes widened, “No, it’s mine. I came with it.”

The woman scoffed, “It’s from our women’s collection.”

“I… it’s borrowed,” Peter tried to defend himself.

The woman shook her head disbelievingly. “Well, we can check the cameras,” she put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “I’m going to get the security and they are going to call the police.”

Peter’s heart started racing, even though he knew he didn’t do anything wrong. But just being in the store felt wrong enough for Peter. The woman turned him and pushed him forward.

Then suddenly Ms. Potts appeared in front of him. She had carrying a few black and grey T-shirts.

“What’s going on here?” She questioned. Peter froze, but so did the saleswomen behind him. 

“Oh, Ms. Potts,” the woman greeted the CEO her voice suddenly a pitch higher and much sweeter, “What an honour to have you here… I… I’m very sorry, I just caught the child stealing and I’m bringing him to our security. We’re very sorry for the disturbance. My colleague is free, if you need any assistance.”

Ms. Potts frowned. Her eyes met Peter’s.

“Are you saying my nephew tried to steal something, even though I had just told him that I would pay for anything he wants?”

“Your… nephew?” The woman’s grip on Peter’s shoulder loosened.

“Yes, my nephew.” Ms. Potts confirmed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” The sales assistant apologized “And I’m so sorry, Sir,” she suddenly addressed Peter.

“It’s alright,” the teenager muttered.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman repeated again, giving the jacket bag to Peter.

“It’s fine,” Peter told the woman, but Ms. Potts didn’t seem to agree with him. Protectively she stepped between Peter and the woman.

“Are you always judging your clients by their appearance? I’ve never witnessed such unprofessional behaviour in this store before,” Ms. Potts claimed

 “I’m going to write a complain to the management,” Ms. Potts paused and looked at the woman’s name tag intensively, “…Mrs. Wales.”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Potts. I didn’t want to offend you or your family. I’m very sorry,” the woman muttered. Then there was an awkward silence. Ms. Potts was just staring at the woman.

“If you need anything, me and my colleagues would gladly assist you.”

When Ms. Potts didn’t answer anything and just kept glaring at the woman, the sales assistant just scrambled away.

After she had left, Ms. Potts sighed.

“I’m so sorry, Peter,” she told him, “I didn’t think that this would happen.”

“It’s fine… Don’t complain to management. I mean the woman just drew hasty conclusions. I don’t want anybody to lose a job because of me,” Peter told Ms. Potts too. The woman looked at him for a few seconds and then huffed a laugh.

“God, Tony is right. You are an incredibly good kid,” she said to the teenager and patted his back, “Come on let’s buy you some clothes. Have you picked out anything?”

With wide eyes Peter looked at Ms. Potts.

“Not really…” Peter mumbled. Ms. Potts stayed patient.

“Okay, then let’s look together. I already found everything Tony needs. Now let’s look for stuff for you.”

 

* * *

 

In half an hour Ms. Potts had filled up a shopping basked with all sorts of clothes. When Peter stayed extremely reluctant to point out anything he liked, Ms. Potts just took matters into her own handa and started filling up a basket with clothes. She briefly held every piece in front of Peter, checking the size and colour, and then nodded and threw it in the basket.

“Winter coats,” she muttered to herself, “We need winter coats.”

She pulled Peter towards a collection of coats. “What about this one?” She asked. She pulled out a dark blue trench coat with checked lining. It looked like something Flash would wear.

Peter shook his head. Ms. Potts just nodded and continued going through more coats. She showed him a few more and Peter always shook his head.

Then finally she pulled out a simple nylon jacket in a dark green. It didn’t look extravagant. Peter touched it. It had a thin filling with feathers.

“You like this one?” Ms. Potts asked, “I think it would look great on you. Come on. Try it on.”

She pushed him towards mirror. Reluctantly Peter tried it on. It was warm and comfy. The size was perfect for him. He wasn’t tall, but his arms were gangly, and he usually had to choose between clothes that were baggy or clothes whose sleeves were too short. This one fit him perfectly.

“Look at you, handsome,” Ms. Potts said as he looked at him in the mirror. “I think the coat is perfect.”

Peter smiled, kind of liking how he looked. “Yeah, it’s good.”

“Alright, now I think some socks, underwear if you want and shoes, then we’re done,” Ms. Potts said.

Peter nodded and took off the coat. But as he took it off, Peter saw the price tag and paled.

In shock he looked at Ms. Potts. She frowned, not really understanding what Peter was thinking.

The price of the coat was higher than Peter’s and May’s rent. Higher than the rent from their old apartment. Peter’s stomach turned. He felt disgusted by the coat.

“I don’t want it,” he said to Ms. Potts.

Ms. Potts seemed briefly disappointed, but then nodded, “Okay they have a lot more. We will find something you like.”

But Peter just shook his head vehemently. Suddenly guilt hitting him hard.

“I don’t want anything. I don’t want anything from this store.”

“Peter, we’ve discussed this. Money is no issue,” Ms. Potts told him again.

“But it is,” Peter argued back, “Money is an issue. It has always been an issue. I don’t want this. I can’t wear any of this.” Peter pointed at the basked Ms. Potts was pulling behind her.

“Peter…” Ms. Potts said softly.

“I don’t want it,” Peter argued. His voice was getting panicky. He thought about all those hours May had had to work to buy him just the simplest things. How she had been tired in the evening, regularly falling asleep on the coach. He remembered how his aunt had skipped meals, just so that her teenage nephew could go to sleep with a full stomach.

Peter had seen enough price tags in the store to be able to crunch the number and calculate the price of all those things Ms. Potts wanted to buy him. It was more money than him and May would have spent in two months.

 “I don’t want anything, Ms. Potts,” Peter said. A tear rolled down his cheek. Peter thought about all the people he had met in the past few months. He thought about the women in the shelter and the children in the group home.

Peter wasn’t suddenly disgusted by himself to even have considered buying clothes from this store.

“Peter, you need new clothes,” Ms. Potts insisted.

“But I don’t want any!” Peter shouted at the woman. The few people in the store popped up their heads and looked at the pair, “I don’t want any of those clothes! People are starving or can’t pay for their cancer treatment, and you want to buy clothes for me worth more than 4000 dollars. I don’t want it. It’s disgusting.”

* * *

 

Ms. Potts had given back the basket to one of the sales assistances and apologized. Peter and Ms. Potts hadn’t talked much on their way back to the apartment.

When the elevator opened, Mr. Stark was already waiting for them. He greeted them with a smile.

“And how was your shopping tour?” The man questioned. Ms. Potts just shook her head, while Peter wordlessly passed by Mr. Stark and walked towards his room.

“What happened?” Mr. Stark wanted to know.

Ms. Potts sighed. “It was a disaster,” she told her fiancé. She started telling Mr. Stark about their day, beginning from how the sale assistant had accused Peter of stealing.

Peter clenched his teeth. His face heated in embarrassment as he heard Ms. Potts tell Mr. Stark the story. Quickly Peter found his noise cancelling headphones and put them on. He jumped up to the ceiling, crawled to the upper corner of the room and hugged his knees.

His eyes were burning. By now he knew that this was the only corner of the room not surveyed by FRIDAY.

 

* * *

 

An hour must have passed, before Mr. Stark entered his room. Peter hadn’t heard him knocking, but Peter was also wearing his headphones.

Mr. Stark was startled for a second, when he didn’t see Peter immediately. But when he discovered Peter on the ceiling, the man's lips formed a grin. He was saying something, but Peter couldn’t hear him trough the headphones.

Mr. Stark was pointing on a tablet in his hand, while saying something.

Peter took off his headphones.

“So, I have told you, you either go get clothes with Pepper or I go online shopping for you,” the man told him with a smirk, “What do you think about a silk suit? In baby blue fitting to your baby face?”

Peter didn’t respond anything. He just clenched his teeth.

Mr. Stark’s grin disappeared.

“I’m donating a lot of money every year, you know that, right Pete?” Mr. Stark told him, “I kind of get what you were thinking in the store. You are a good kid. Anybody else would have taken advantage of what Pepper and I are offering you here, but you… How the hell did your aunt and uncle raise you to be that good?”

“I’m not good,” Peter muttered into his knees.

“And humble. Incredibly humble.”

Peter just scoffed.

“But you need clothes, Pete. You understand, that right?” Mr. Stark said gently.

“My clothes are fine.”

“Kiddo, they’re not. But I’m willing to make a deal with you. We going to do an online-shopping tour. You can choose any store you want and what you want. But you must pick out T-Shirts, pants, shoes and a winter coat and I get to pick the quantity. Deal?”

Peter jumped down from the ceiling and nodded hesitating for a seconds. “Deal,” Peter agreed feeling relieved. 

Mr. Stark’s face brightened in victory. He sat down on Pete’s bed and started typing something into the tablet. “So, where do you usually buy your clothes?” Mr. Stark wanted to know, “punny-shirts.com?”


	26. Chapter 26

Peter was sitting in Bobby’s apartment again. He tried to focus on the project, but he just couldn’t. It was Friday afternoon and Peter had now officially skipped one whole week of school. He looked at the watch, anxiously waiting for when Mr. Stark would pick him up. He didn’t look forward to the weekend.

Mr. Stark had been so patient. Peter had shouted at Ms. Potts and thrown a temper tantrum the department store, but both adult remained patient with him.

How long would the man remain patient? Peter knew that he was a mess and he didn’t know how he could stop being a mess. Peter took a shaky breath. Sooner or later Mr. Stark would find out. He would be furious.

Peter got startled when his phone blinked. It was a message from Mr. Stark. Nervously he opened it. Mr. Stark never wrote him during school time.

“ _Happy is going to pick you up today. He just returned this morning from Europe. He wants to take you out for dinner. See you tonight,”_ the message read.

Mr. Stark still didn’t know. He still didn’t know about Peter skipping school.

Peter took another glance at the clock. Bobby was meeting with the chemistry club after school and had told Peter that he would come home later. He sank into his chair.

 

 

* * *

 

Nervously Peter waited for Happy to arrive. The man was already ten minutes late and Happy was actually never late.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

 _“I’m in front of your school, Peter. Where are you?”_ Happy asked in a message. Peter’s stomach plummeted. Of course, Happy would pick him up from school. Nobody would pay attention to Mr. Stark’s former bodyguard picking up SI interns from school. Shit. Peter couldn’t go back to school Somebody would see him and then Mr. Stark would learn that Peter had been skipping school.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With shaking fingers Peter send his location to Happy.

_“Sorry, Mr. Stark always picked me up one block away from school. Can you pick me up here?”_

_“It will take me longer to drive there than you to walk back,”_ Happy wrote, “ _There had been an accident on that street, the traffic is impossible. Just come back to school.”_

Peter gulped.

 

* * *

 

Peter hoped that nobody would notice him. He pulled his hoodie over his head and looked at the floor as passed by the crowd in front of his school. He just had to make sure that no classmate and teachers saw him.

Happy was outside of his car, waiting for him.

Quickly Peter walked to the car.

“Hey kid, nice to see you,” Happy greeted him with a forced smile.

“Hey Happy,” Peter said back and quickly opened the door for the car.

But just as Peter thought that he had succeeded in avoiding anyone from his school that knew him, he could hear Mrs. Warren calling after him.

“Peter!”

The teenager paled. “Let’s go, Happy,” Peter tried to rush the man, but Happy just frowned towards the approaching teacher.

“Let’s go, Happy,” he pushed a second time.

“Who’s that?” Happy questioned.

Mrs. Warren was now running.

“My physic teacher. It’s nothing. She probably just wants to remind me about… my presentation next week.”

Happy didn’t listen to him. He just stood there, waiting for the teacher.

“Peter,” Mrs. Warren said out of breath, after she had finally caught up. She took a moment until her breathing calmed.

“Hi Mrs. Warren,” Peter mumbled. He glanced nervously at Happy, who seemed far too interested.

“Are you feeling better?” Mrs. Warren asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Peter muttered. Was that what his teachers had been thinking? That he was sick? Mr. Stark had called his school that Peter would be absent for a few days after he had fallen from the roof, but he hadn’t called him in sick for the following week.

“Good,” Mrs. Warren said, “You missed quite a lot, four weeks almost. With the suspension and all.”

Mrs. Warren’s eyes were soft on him. Happy on the other hand was frowning in confusion.

“Uh, yeah. I will catch up. No worries,” Peter muttered, “See you on Monday then, Mrs. Warren.”

“See you on Monday, Peter. If you have any trouble with any subject, I will gladly help you,” she offered.

“Thanks,” Peter said rushing to finish the conversation.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Happy interrupted. He walked closer to Peter and the teacher.

“Oh,” Mrs. Warren seemed to notice Happy only now, “I’m sorry. You must be Peter’s… guardian. I’m his physics teacher.” She smiled and stretched her hand out. Happy shook it.

“I’m working for his guardian,” Happy explained to the woman, “But what do you mean with Peter had missed four weeks?”

Peter’s heart started racing.

Mrs. Warren seemed confused by Happy’s question.

“Well he had been suspended for two weeks and he was sick for the past two weeks,” Mrs. Warren told the man.

“He…” Happy glanced at Peter, “He hadn’t been sick for the past week. And what suspension?”

Bewildered Mrs. Warren looked from Happy to Peter.

“He had been sick. Two weeks ago, his guardian called him in sick.”

Happy shook his head. “He had been sick two weeks ago. But he was in school this week.”

“He wasn’t.” Mrs. Warren told the former bodyguard. Suddenly both adults turned their heads towards Peter.

“Peter?” Mrs. Warren questioned her voice laced with concern.

Teenager opened his mouth to answer, but then shut it again.

“Have you been… skipping school?” Happy asked.

Peter’s eyes met Happy was a second, before Peter looked down on his feet deeply ashamed. He nodded.

“Oh Peter,” Mrs. Warren said softly. Peter froze, when the physics teacher put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Peter was sitting in principal Morita’s office, nervously fumbling with his sleeves. The principal was making a coffee for the other adults in the room. Mrs. Warren was sitting next to Peter, glancing at the teenager with concern. Happy just seemed bewildered. He was leaning against the wall and Peter could feel the man’s eyes on him.

They had called Mr. Stark and they were waiting for him to arrive.

It took the man less than half an hour. Peter really didn’t want to know how many traffic rules the man had broken to come here that quickly.

He marched into principal’s office without knocking. But Peter had heard the man's angry steps as soon as he had entered the building. Mr. Stark seemed unusually stressed. His eyes darted around in the room until his and Peter’s eyes met.

“So, who’s going to explain to me what the hell is going on?” The man questioned.

Mrs. Warren and principal Morita looked at the man perplexed. “Oh, Mr. Stark. Nice to meet you,” the principal greeted the billionaire and then looked at Peter, “I… I didn’t know that you were Peter’s guardian.”

Mr. Stark frowned and folded his arms in front of him, clearly not in the mood for starstruck people.

“Well, you did receive all the document confirming that I’m Peter’s guardian, didn't you? My name was on the papers,” Mr. Stark said to the man irritated.

“Yes…” Mr. Morita blushed, “I thought it was a coincidence… I saw the name, but I didn’t think you were _the_ Tony Stark.”

Peter’s mentor breathed out in annoyance, “No, I’m not _the_ Tony Stark. I just coincidently have the same name and birthday and look like him. Now, what’s going on here?”

The man’s gaze turned back to Peter. He was clearly expecting Peter to answer. But the teenager’s throat was being painfully dry. He didn’t think he could say something, even if he knew what to say.

“The kid skipped school this week, Boss,” Happy answered for him.

Mr. Stark furrowed his brows, still glaring at Peter.

“Is that true, Peter?” The man’s tone made Peter shiver.

The teenager nodded hesitantly.

“How often? How often did you skip school this week?”

This time it was principal Morita, who answered. “Every day, Sir. Peter hasn’t been to school at all this week.”

Mr. Stark looked at Peter angrily for a few more seconds, before turning to the principal. “And why the hell has nobody informed me? That’s your job, isn’t it? I’m pretty sure I send you my phone number, address and whatnot.”

“We…,” principal Morita grew embarrassed, “You called him in sick for a few days. Most teachers just assumed he was still sick.”

“You assumed, huh? And you didn’t care to check?” Mr. Stark questioned and popped up an eyebrow.

“Well, up until this school year Peter had never been a troublemaker. We didn’t think…”

Mrs. Warren interrupted the principal, “We are very sorry, Mr. Stark. We should have called. Especially considering the past few weeks,” the woman apologized.

“Yes, we are very sorry, Sir. We should have informed you. But this will still have consequences for Peter. Usually we would give him detention or suspend him, but considering how this year has gone so far… I know Peter’s circumstances are difficult, but I think we will need a disciplinary hearing," Mr. Morita explained. As he mentioned the disciplinary hearing Mr. Morita looked at Peter with concerned eyes. The teenager gulped.

Mr. Stark took a few steps closer to the principal’s desk.

“Disciplinary hearing? The kid skipped school. How the hell does that result in a disciplinary hearing? Back in my time you had to blow up the classroom to get a disciplinary hearing.”

“Yes, skipping school doesn’t validate a disciplinary hearing,” the principal told Mr. Stark, “But Peter also had two fights the past few months, breaking one of his classmate’s nose and giving the other a severe concussion.  It doesn’t look good. I know he had a few difficult months and we are willing to listen to his side of the story, but I believe a disciplinary hearing is necessary.”

“What?” Mr. Stark was perturbed, “Broke somebody’s nose? No, Peter didn’t do that. He didn’t hurt anybody. Kid, you didn’t do that, right?”

His mentor looked at him, more frantic than angry.

“It’s true. I’m sorry, Sir,” Peter mumbled staring at his lab and anxiously hugging himself. He clenched his eyes shut fighting his tears. Mr. Stark always kept saying that Peter was a good kid, but that wasn’t true at all.

“When is this hearing then?” Mr. Stark wanted to know. He sounded defeated, tired, _disappointed._

“I will talk to the school board and find a date in the beginning of coming week. Preferably Tuesday or Wednesday. I will inform you as soon as possible about the details. Until then, Peter is suspended,” Mr. Morita decided.

 

* * *

 

Mr. Stark was walking quickly out of the school. Happy and Peter followed behind him.

“It’s going to be alright, Peter,” Happy comforted him and put hand on the teenager’s back.

Peter didn’t reply anything. His stomach twisted in anxiousness.

“Boss,” Happy said as soon they had left the building, “how about I get something to eat with Peter. I will bring him home later.”

Peter guessed that Happy was trying to help, giving Mr. Stark the opportunity to calm down before having to talk to Peter. But the billionaire just turned around angrily and snapped at both of them, “Nope, not happing. Our teenage truant will have a ride home with me. He will not _skip_ on that.”

Happy nervously looked Mr. Stark and then on Peter.

“Tony, don’t be to hard on him,” Happy said pleadingly.

“See you, Happy,” Mr. Stark just replied, “Peter, let’s go. My car is over there.”

 Tony pressed the button at his car keys and the lights of a white sports car blinked.

“See you Happy,” Peter muttered to the former bodyguard, “…and, uh, thanks.”

Mr. Stark walked over to his car, opened the passenger door, gesturing to Peter to get in. On shaking legs, the teenager followed the man’s orders and climbed nervously into the car. Mr. Stark slammed the door shut with more force then necessary.

Then he walked to the other side of the car and sat down in the car as well.

Peter anxiously waited for the man to start shouting. Instead the man went with a hand through his and exhaled loudly.

“Okay, Pete. Explain,” Mr. Stark said. His tone wasn’t as angry as Peter would have expected.

“I’m sorry,” Peter muttered.

The man sighed in annoyance. “I didn’t ask you to apologize. I asked you to explain. So, explain.”

“I… I skipped school,” Peter replied.

“Yeah, I know. Why?”

“I don’t know…” Peter’s eyes fell on his lap.

“I will need more than that,” Mr. Stark said, “What’s the problem? Bullies?”

Peter shook his head. It wasn’t about bullies. Sure, maybe it would be easier to go to school if there wasn’t a Flash, but Flash wasn’t the reason why Peter was skipping school.

“I don’t know…” Peter said again.

Mr. Stark’s face showed that he was growing impatient.

“Kid, I dropped you off one block away from school and picked you up at exactly the same spot everyday for a week. Where have you been going?”

In panic Peter looked up. He didn’t want to get Bobby into trouble.

“Nowhere!” Peter answered and regretted his nervous tone the same second. Mr. Stark just eyed him suspiciously.

“FRIDAY? Where has Peter been the past few days?”

“His phone connected regularly to a Wireless network of an apartment in Queens. I can give you the address,” the AI answered through the speakers of the car.

“Thanks, Fri. Add the address to the GPS. We’re having a small detour on our way home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parenting isn't easy, huh Tony?
> 
> Thanks for all the comments! They brighten my days!


	27. Chapter 27

Tony glanced at the boy next to him in the car and tighten his grip on the steering wheel.

Up until now the man had thought that he had a handle on the situation. Of course, he knew that Peter wasn’t anywhere close to being happy, but Tony didn’t expect that. The kid’s aunt was dying and even a billion pancakes wouldn’t make the child forget that. But Tony had thought that he had shown the kid, that he was there for him.

Tony had really tried hard to be comforting, to be someone the teenager could trust. He had been there. He had given Peter many soft words and tight hugs. And Tony really wasn’t a hugger. The only persons he had ever hugged before had been his mother, Pepper and Rhodey. The latter only once, after the soldier had found him in a dessert in Afghanistan. Tony had to admit though that he liked cuddling the kid, but it had still been just so frustrating. Every time the kid had calmed in his arms, Tony had hoped, that the boy was over the worst. But it had always been only a matter of hours before Peter was a sobbing mess again.

That had been the main reason why the man had pushed Peter to go back to school. Tony had thought that Peter had needed a distraction. Friends, a routine: a distraction. He had been so relieved when the boy had agreed without any fight.

And ever since Peter had returned to school, or at least ever since Tony had thought Peter had returned to school, the teenager had cried less. He had become more withdrawn, but Tony had tried to give him space.

The incident in the shop with Pepper had been a little bit disturbing though. Apparently, Peter had suddenly snapped and even yelled at Pepper. But Tony had stayed patient, even though he really didn’t like the thought of Pepper being shouted at.

Tony had been pretty proud that he had managed to find a compromise that night. He had been perplexed by how the kid managed to put together a whole wardrobe for under 300 hundred dollars and Tony hadn’t exactly been satisfied with all the sales product Peter had wanted to buy, but at least the teenager wouldn’t be running around in rags anymore. It had been a good compromise. That evening Tony had actually thought that he might be good at this whole parenting thing or whatever it was what he was doing.

His confidence even hadn’t faltered, when Happy had criticized him after hearing about all that had happened while the man had been on holidays. Tony was aware, that he had done mistakes, but he was trying his best to not make mistakes again.

Tony had been certain that he was on the right path, that he would figure everything out. He had been certain until he had gotten a phone call, asking him to come to Peter’s school.

Peter’s head was turned to the window of the car. He was trying to hide his face. But Tony could still see the kid’s redden eyes and the tears dropping onto his lap. It hurt to see him like that.

But he had also lied to Tony. Everyday Peter had pretended to go to school. The kid wouldn’t even offer an explanation now. What had the kid been doing?

Various scenarios went through Tony’s mind, but nothing seemed to make sense. It wasn’t as if Tony had never skipped classes. He could come up with various reasons why anybody would skip school. Personally, Tony had mostly skipped classes to annoy his father, but Tony could imagine different motivations. Boredom, struggling with subjects, fear of bullies or a teacher, simply having more fun things to do… But Peter just wasn’t the type to skip school. In fact, Tony knew that Peter had an almost perfect attendance with very few sick days in the past. Tony was actually pretty sure the only time Peter had skipped school before, had been when _Tony_ had made him skip school for the mission in Germany and recently the one in Poland.

But then again, the kid had gotten into fights and Tony hadn’t known about that either. Do-goody Spider-Baby had been in fights with his classmates, breaking other kid’s noses and giving out concussions.                                                                                                                                 

The address FRIDAY had given him wasn’t far from the school. It was also close to Peter’s old apartment house, the Highrise apartment building almost identical to the kid’s old one.

Tony stopped his car.

“Who lives here?” Tony wanted to know.

“Just… a friend. Really nobody,” Peter stuttered.

“Okay, let’s meet nobody,” Tony decided and turned off the car.

“I can invite him over to the penthouse one day, if you want. Just… let’s go home,” Peter argued.

“You’re aware that the more you fight this, the more I’m interested in meeting your… friend?” Tony told him.

“Mr. Stark really… please,” Peter begged. But Tony was determined. Peter was hiding something from him. 

“FRIDAY? What’s the apartments number?”

“305, the apartment is on the third floor,” the AI answered immediately.

“Any more information on who lives there?” Tony wanted to know.

Peter’s eyes widened in fear, as the AI quickly responded, “The apartment is rented by Rachel Austen, a 37 years old woman, currently unemployed. She is living with her eighteen years old son Robert Austen, who’s a senior student in Peter’s school.”

Some part of Tony calmed a bit. Peter had just been hanging out at a friend’s place. If that Robert Kid was in Peter’s school, he couldn’t be too much of a delinquent. Midtown tech was a just an accumulation of nerdy teens. Any of those kids would be eaten alive in a different school.

But then he saw the kid taking out his mobile phone with shaky hands. He was writing a message. He was typing it fast, his urgency obvious. Tony frowned.

Was this kid warning his friend about them coming?

“FRIDAY, block the kid’s phone. No calls or messages out until I allow it again.”

Exasperated Peter snapped his head to Tony.

“Mr. Stark… you can’t just block my phone. That’s like… illegal. I just wanted to tell Bobby, I mean Robert, that we’re coming. It’s impolite to come unannounced.”

 Tony scoffed. “You know what else is impolite? You lying to me for a whole damn week. Making me drive you school, while you actually do god knows what. I would say that was pretty rude on your part.”

Peter clenched his jaw, glaring back at Tony.

 

* * *

 

Tony could feel the tension in the kid as they entered the unlocked apartment building. The closer they got to apartment 305, the tenser the kid next to him got. He didn’t protest anymore though. The kid was probably aware that he couldn’t stop Tony anyway now.

“He probably isn’t home anyway, Mr. Stark,” Peter said in a low voice, but they were already in front of the apartment. Tony knocked a few times loudly after he couldn’t fine a bell at the door. Peter flinched with every knock.

Tony could hear somebody moving behind the door, probably looking through the door viewer. The person behind the door moved away from the door again, not responding to the knocking.

“See?” Peter tried again, “Nobody is home. Let’s go, Mr. Stark.”

Tony pressed his lips together. Peter knew that somebody was in the apartment. If Tony have heard the person, Peter certainly had too. The kid was lying again.

Angrily Tony pulled out his keychain. His newly created nanotech key, that fitted into any lock, was hanging on it is looking like key fob. Within seconds Tony had the door to the apartment open.

“Mr. Stark, you can’t just break into people’s apartments,” Peter cried out, but he couldn’t stop Tony.

The man walked into the flat, already standing in the living room as the flat didn’t have a hallway and directly opened to the living space. The apartment had a similar layout as Peter’s old apartment, but it looked much more run down. The furniture was older, there were no decorations and it was quite unclean.

In the middle of the room there was a teenager standing. He was a bit older than Peter, quite a bit taller, but just as gangly. His dark hair had been trimmed short but certainly not by a hairdresser. But other than that, he looked inconspicuous with a face that anybody would forget within seconds.

“Sorry Bobby,” Peter started hastily, “Mr. Stark wanted to meet you. Uh, Mr. Stark this is Bobby Austen. We were doing a chemistry project together the week when I couldn’t go to the field trip. And… uh, Bobby, that’s Mr. Stark, but guess you probably know that. I had an internship with SI, you know.”

Bobby’s jaw dropped open, his eyes wide in a mix of disbelief and fear.

Tony walked a few steps closer to Bobby. Only a small living room table with a few empty beer cans and a small cardboard box was between them. Tony folded his arm and glared at the teenager suspiciously.

“So, you are my kid’s co-truant? You enjoy skipping school?” Tony knocked over the beer cans, one was half full, spilling over the table. “Drinking instead?”

The teen quickly took the carboard box from the table, saving the box from the Budweiser spilling over the couch table.

“I… what?” Bobby asked. The teenager just looked overwhelmed by the situation.

“I know that Peter here had been spending all his mornings and afternoon in this rathole. Senior student in New York’s biggest nerd school and you what? Decided to screw it all up in the last few months? Because, Robby, by the looks of this place you actually can’t afford to screw it up.” Tony told the kid, who just kept looking at him in confusion.

“Sorry, I… I don’t know. I… Peter just… Why are you here?”

“Because my kid had been skipping school the past week and you had been helping him with that,” Tony replied, “So, since Peter hadn’t been very talkative, I want you to spill it. What the hell were you guys doing the past week? Oh, and where is your mother. I think she should know about this,” Tony said.

The teenager paled. “I… I live alone. I just gave Peter the keys. I was only here after school,” he explained. Bobby then paused for a second and then frowned, “What do you mean ‘ _your_ kid’?”

“He’s my… foster… guardian… since about two weeks,” Peter informed the other boy before Tony could offer an explanation.

“Tony Stark is your foster father?” Bobby asked Peter.

“I guess,” Peter answered and shrugged his shoulder. The title ‘foster father’ sounded weird to Tony, but yeah, that was what technically was to Peter.

“So, where is your mother? She’s renting this apartment, so she probably also lives here. And I’m pretty sure you’re not 21 one yet,” Tony kicked the coach table, rattling the beer cans, “Making this illegal.”

“I don’t know, where my mom is. I’m eighteen, I can live alone,” the teenager argued his face getting red, “And we didn’t drink. We just did… some chemistry.”

“I can’t even get drunk, Mr. Stark,” Peter added, “We were just working on a… school project.”

“Ah, so you can’t get drunk.” Tony raised his eyebrows and looked at the teenager, “And you would know that, how exactly?”

When Peter realized how his defence backfired, he clenched his mouth shut and looked down guiltily.

“Not drinking, yeah?” Tony turned to the other teenager again.

Then suddenly, Tony realized something.

“You were the one, who gave Peter ecstasy,” Tony concluded.

Bobby’s eyes widened in fear, “What?”

Something in Tony snapped. He started yelling, “Peter almost died, you punk. How could you give drugs to a kid?”

Bobby stayed confused. “I… I didn’t give Peter anything.”

“Yeah? Are you sure?” Tony took out of his phone and activated his AI, “FRIDAY, the night when Peter took the pill, where had he been before he ended up on the hospital roof drugged out of his mind?”

Immediately the AI voice answered through the speakers of the phone, “The day Peter overdosed on ecstasy he had been in the group home, in Mrs. Parker’s hospital and afterwards in the Austen’s apartment, boss.”

Bobby clutched the box in his hands tighter and stared at the phone in Tony’s hand in bewilderment.

“I didn’t get the drug from Bobby,” Peter intervened, “I… I got it from one of the kids in the group home.”

That Peter had gotten drugs in the group home actually sounded like a reasonable explanation. But Tony had this weird feeling in his stomach. Peter was lying.

“What’s in the box?” Tony asked. The teenager was holding it just a little bit too tightly, making Tony feel suspicious about it.

 Bobby hadn’t opened the door for them. But why hadn’t he? His friend had been standing in front of the door together with Tony, a man was known to every child and adult in New York. Why hadn’t he opened the door? The only explanation was that he was hiding something.

Bobby’s face got white as a sheet of paper.

“Nothing.”

Before Bobby could do anything, Tony leaned over the living room table and snatched the box out of Bobby’s hands. Tony opened it. He took out a plastic bag full of pink pills and threw them on the table.

“What the hell?” Tony shouted. The man exactly knew that this amount pills, presumably MDMA, certainly couldn’t only be for personal use.

Tony glared at Bobby, who stared back in horror. When Tony looked at Peter, the boy just looked back wide-eyed. Then Tony grabbed Bobby by his collar and pulled the teenager closer to himself.

“What’s this?” Tony spat.

Tony could see the desperate fear in the teenager’s face. The boy was trying to think of an excuse, but there was no way that he could talk himself out of this situation.

“Let go off him!” Peter begged, “Please! Mr. Stark”

Peter’s plead made Tony only feel more agitated. From all people in Peter’s school, why did the kid befriend a drug dealer?

The man twisted the young drug dealer’s collar just yet not choking him.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter protested louder now, “Let go off him!”

Tony shook the teenager in front of him, ignoring his kid. “Peter was damn close to dying. That’s how you do business? Sell drugs to the most hopeless kid in school? Make him skip school, give him beer? Screwing with his life? For what? _Money_?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t give him anything,” Bobby said, struggling to catch his breath.

Then suddenly Peter moved to Tony’s side and grabbed man’s wrist. In one fluent motion Peter twisted Tony’s hand and made Tony let go off Bobby. Tony knew that the kid was strong, but he had never… It was just so easy to forget that this skinny kid had super-human strength. Tony messaged his wrist. The kid was strong. In shock Tony realized that his wrist ached. Has his kid just hurt him?

“He didn’t give me anything, Mr. Stark. I just took it! There was a pill on the couch and… I just took it. I’m sorry! Bobby is just my friend, he didn’t sell me anything,” Peter explained and then turned to Bobby, “I’m sorry, Bobby. I shouldn’t have taken it.”

Tony studied both teenager’s in front of him with a frown. Bobby seemed shaken, while Peter’s eyes were just begging for understanding. Briefly, very, _very_ briefly, Tony considered letting this slide. He could pretend to have not seen anything. He could just walk out of the room, take Peter home, maybe forbid him to ever meet Bobby again and but then he would just forget that this had ever happened.

But anger was boiling up in the man. Tony had tried to be patient the past few days, but enough was enough.

 The kid was doing the same mistakes he had done so many years before. Tony had had his fair share of drug dealing ‘friends’ as well, but none of those ‘friendships’ had ever turned out to be something good.

Tony took his phone and dialled the police. It was the only reasonable thing to do.

“Who are you calling?” Peter asked, realizing what Tony was about to do.

“I’m calling 911,” Tony informed him.

“What? No!” Peter shouted. He yanked the phone out of Tony’s hand before the man could press the call button.

 Tony rolled his eyes, not at all impressed. “FRIDAY, call the police for me please and inform them about a drug dealer living in this apartment.”

“Yes, boss,” the AI answered.

“FRIDAY, don’t,” Peter pleaded, but the artificial intelligence just answered soberly, “The police is already on its way.”

Peter’s big brown eyes stared at Tony in betrayal.

“I hate you!” Peter cried out loudly, his cheeks flushed red “I hate you, Tony!”

Then Peter stormed out of the flat.

  

* * *

 

 

Tony ran after Peter. The kid was quick as hell, but Tony was determined to catch up with him, almost falling over his own feet, when he sprinted down the stairs after the kid.

They were outside of the apartment house, when Tony finally caught up with the kid.

“Peter, stop!”, Tony yelled after him.

Peter halted and turned around. Peter’s face was red, tears flowing down his cheeks.

“Why did you call the police, Mr. Stark?” Peter shouted at the man. When Tony tried to step closer to the kid, Peter just took as many steps backwards.

“He’s a drug dealer, kid,” Tony told the kid.

“He’s my friend!” Peter argued back.

“Kid, drug dealers make the worst friends.”

“Call off the police. Tell them it was a wrong call,” Peter asked him, but Tony just shook his head.

“I’m not going to do that,” Tony replied firmly, “He did this to himself.”

“He’s just selling drug for his mom. His mom is sick!” Peter defended Bobby.

Tony scoffed, “What a load of crap.”

“Call off the police!” Peter screamed at Tony almost hysterically.

“Nope, not going to happen. Don’t you see? He isn’t your friend,” Tony tried to make clear to the kid.

Peter is bottom lip quivered. “He is. He’s my friend,” the kid insisted, “He was here when nobody was!”

“Yeah, great friend, fantastic friend,” Tony snapped back, “Gives you drugs when you are at your lowest point.”

Tony could see the frustration in the kid’s face.

“He didn’t give me anything,” Peter repeated. Then he started walking away again in a fast pace.

“Peter, stop!”

“Why should I listen to you? Why do you care? You didn’t care for _months._ Just leave me alone!”

“Peter, stop! Where are you even going?” Tony yelled.

“I don’t have to listen to you!”

“Yeah, you have, I’m your guardian now.”

“I don’t care! Just unsign the papers then. I’m going back to the group home.”

“What about your aunt, huh? I just paid 200,000 dollars for her treatment. You care about that?” Tony shouted after Peter. At that the boy’s feet froze.

At any other moment the fearful, distrusting expression on the kid’s face would have alarmed Tony. But right now, Tony didn’t care. He just wanted to end this discussion.

“Get in the car, we’re going home,” Tony commanded. Peter hesitated at first but then warily followed Tony’s order.

 

* * *

 

 

Back in the car Peter didn’t look at Tony, but just kept his gaze straight. Tony turned on the motor of his Audi, the low humming of the car was the only noise in the car. In a dreadful silence, they drove back to Manhattan.

Neither of them had noticed the guy standing on the sidewalk, who was just putting his smartphone away with a huge, excited grin on his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had about three hours of sleep thanks to an exam. Luckily, the exam went well. Now I have about eighteen hours to pack up a room, because I'm moving tomorrow. But yeah, here I am posting another chapter. 
> 
> I'm not quiet sure about this chapter, it kind of escalated quickly.  
> Still, I hope you liked it.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here is the next chaper. A lot of things are mentioned, which happened in much earlier chapeters. Especially people who read the story chapter by chapter as I upload might have almost forgotten about earlier events.  
> So whoever gets confused can check out chapter 3 (Peter gets robbed by Bobby's drug dealer 'buddies'), chapter 14 (Peter meets Bobby's boss, the drug dealer Alex) and chapter 15-16 (Peter gets a present after his class returns from the field trip and he and Ned have a fight).

Peter was lying curled up on his bed, fighting his tears. His stomach started hurting when he thought about what was going to happen to Bobby.

Bobby had called Peter from the police station. Bobby hadn’t managed to get out of the apartment before the police came. The teenager had tried to get rid of all the drugs in the apartment, but the first officers had arrived in barely a few minutes after Mr. Stark’s phone call, apparently they had been in the neighbourhood. Bobby had managed to flush down most of the drugs in the house, but unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to get rid of everything. It had been enough proof for the police to arrest him and bring him down to the police station.

 All in all, it had been a confusing phone call. Both boys had been stumbling over words and muttering apologies and explanations. They had been saying a lot, but neither of them had felt like they had found the right words.

 Peter had wondered, why Bobby had used his one phone call from the police station to call the younger teen. Peter was just a kid, he couldn’t call a lawyer or pay bail or do anything really.  But quickly Peter realized, why Bobby had called him.

Bobby was alone. He had nobody.

Sure, in contrast to Peter Bobby was immensely popular in school, but being popular and having real friends wasn’t the same thing.

Peter had also never seen Bobby’s mother and barely any traces of her living in Bobby’s apartment. The door to her bedroom was always closed. The only hint of her existence in the apartment had been the second toothbrush next to the bathroom sink, a hairbrush on the bathroom windowsill filled with matted dark blond hair and a dirty ashtray on the kitchen table, that Bobby never cared to clean.

Bobby had almost never mentioned her, but Peter knew that she was a drug addict. After her insurance had refused to pay for pain medication, she had switched to street drugs. Leaving Bobby to fend for himself.

Bobby’s voice had been shaky on the phone, scared. There had been nothing left of the smug confidence from when Peter had first met the high-school drug dealer.

 _“Can you leave a note for my mom in my apartment? After the police is done searching the place? Tell her I will be gone for a while,”_ Bobby had asked Peter, _“She will come by at some point, I’m sure.”_

Peter had quickly agreed and even offered to find Bobby’s mother, but Bobby had just huffed a laugh and Peter had not pressed further.

_“How is he?”_ Bobby had then asked next. 

_“What?”_

_“You foster … father. Tony Stark. Is he decent?”_ There had been deep concern in his voice, concern for Peter. 

_“Yeah…Yes, Mr. Stark… he’s fine. Don’t worry about me,”_ Peter had quickly muttered 

_“I’m sorry, Peter. I wanted to help you… but I guess I just made a bigger mess,”._ Bobby had muttered 

_“No, it’s all my fault. Sorry, I’m so sorry.”_

Peter sobbed in his pillow.  It was all Peter’s fault. Bobby had tried to help him and now the older teenager would go to jail. He shouldn’t have skipped school. He shouldn’t have spent all those days in Bobby’s apartment. He should have sucked it up and faced his classmates. Bobby was going to jail, because Peter had been a coward.

There was a short knock on Peter’s door. Peter didn’t have to look to know that it was Mr. Stark. The man entered without waiting for an answer. With quick steps he went into Peter’s room and stopped in front of the teenager’s bed.

“Dinner is ready,” the man told him. His voice was hard.

“I’m not hungry,” Peter muttered back.

“I don’t care. You should be hungry, and you are going to eat something,” the man said back. Peter turned around and looked at Mr. Stark. The man was angry and annoyed. He had his arms folded in front of him and on his face was grim frown.

 Peter clenched his teeth.

“Or what? You gonna stop paying for my aunt’s treatment, if I don’t eat dinner?” Peter snapped back.

For a second Peter saw a flash of guilt crossing the man’s face, but Mr. Stark schooled his features quickly.

“Did you even have lunch?” Mr. Stark changed the topic, ignoring Peter’s provocation.

Peter didn’t answer anything. He hadn’t.

“Did you have lunch any day of the week?” His mentor questioned further.

Again, Peter didn’t answer. He had lunch on Wednesday, when Bobby had come home from school earlier and he had heated up ready-made pizza for both of them.

“Kid, here I am trying for almost three weeks to get some weight on you and you are skipping lunch behind my back,” Mr. Stark scolded him.

“I’m not going to die from skipping lunch,” Peter murmured into his pillow.

“No, but you could get sick. You are too thin, kid. Helen said so. You will stop growing, if you don’t eat enough.”

 Peter wished that Mr. Stark’s words didn’t affect him, but they did. He hugged his pillow tighter, suddenly extremely aware how bony he was. The bed suddenly felt uncomfortable, bones in his hips and arms and shoulders poking him.

“What did you do with the hundred dollars I gave you for lunch money anyway?” Mr. Stark continued his questioned.

Peter shrugged his shoulders and answered, “Gave it to a homeless guy.”

Mr. Stark glared at him incredulously, but then just gave an defeated sigh.

“Dinner now, Peter. Pepper and I will be waiting for you,” Mr. Stark finished their argument and left Peter’s room.

 

* * *

 

In the end Peter complied and made his way to the living room and sat down at the big glass table next across from Tony and Pepper. The dinner was simpler than usual, Mr. Stark probably hadn’t been in a mood to cook. There was a pot of pasta on the table and two different kind of pesto from a fancy Italian supermarket across the street.

Ms. Potts gave him an encouraging smile as Peter sat down. For an awful second Peter thought that the adults would try to talk to him about what had happened that day, but instead Ms. Potts started talk about SI and informed Mr. Stark informed her upcoming events and meetings.

Relieved Peter began to eat his food. He listened to the couple’s conversation for a while. The new StarkPhone was getting released on Monday and Mr. Stark had to give a presentation.  But Peter’s mind quickly wandered off. The inner politics of SI couldn’t keep his attention for too long and his thought went back to Bobby.

Bobby would go to prison. What exactly did the police find in Bobby’s apartment. How long would he have to go to prison? Would he be tried as an adult? Probably, Bobby was already eighteen after all.

What about school? Even if Bobby managed to finish high school while in prison, could he go to college afterwards? But even if he would find a college that admitted him, Bobby would never get a scholarship and there was no way he could pay for it. Maybe he could get a loan, but that was probably also more difficult with a criminal record.

What would Bobby’s mom do? Bobby had been the only one looking out for her. What would happen to her?

Peter’s appetite disappeared quickly. He managed to swallow a few bites, but the pasta tasted bitter and the expensive pesto too oily, too salty, too garlicy. Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark’s voices were distant to him as he poked his food and thought about Bobby’s fate.

“Peter,” a voice pulled out of his train of thoughts. Startled Peter looked up. Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark have both been looking at him.

“Peter,” the man said again, “Have you been listening?” His expression showed something between annoyance and concern.

“What?”

Mr. Stark breathed out heavily.

“I just said, I got an e-mail from your school. Before dinner. They managed sat a date for your disciplinary hearing. It will be on Monday late afternoon. I have a presentation in the morning, but I will pick you up afterwards.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped. He wasn’t looking forward to the hearing and he hadn’t expected the school to make a date so early.

“You got that? Monday after lunch, I’m picking you up.” Mr. Stark repeated and looked at Peter, waiting for any kind of answer. The teenager nodded.

“Peter, you should try to eat some more,” Ms. Potts said gently.

Peter realized that he had barely eaten anything. His plate was almost completely full. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts on the other hand were already finished with their meals. The teenager thought that the comparison was a bit unfair though, Mr. Stark had put at least double the amount of food on his plate.

“Or how about some ice cream with fruits? We have some in the freezer, I think,” Pepper offered, but Mr. Stark only frowned at that.

“He’s not getting ice cream, Pepper,” Mr. Stark intervened, “The kid had been skipping school for one week and he is moping because his drug dealer buddy is going to prison. His going to finish his dinner and then he is going to sleep.”

“Tony, you are being too harsh.”

Mr. Stark scoffed. “A drug dealer, Pepper. He was skipping school and hanging out with a drug dealer. How am I being too harsh?”

“Tony,” Ms. Potts said in a scolding voice. She nodded her head slightly in Peter’s direction, indicating to her fiancé that this might not be the best moment to have this discussion.

“No, he can hear it,” Mr. Stark replied, “Hanging out with a drug dealer is one of the top three dumbest things the kid has ever done. And the kid has done some pretty dumb things, you can trust me on that.”

Blood rushed to Peter’s head in embarrassment. Peter knew that he had screwed up a lot of things.  He could only imagine what Mr. Stark was saying about him, when Peter wasn’t listening.

“Bobby is not a bad guy,” Peter tried to defend his friend.

Mr. Stark snorted. “Yeah? Right, he was only selling drugs to help mommy dearest. What a hero. Maybe I should ask him to join the Avengers?”

“He didn’t have a choice!” Peter argued.

“You always have a choice, Peter.”

“You don’t understand, Mr. Stark. There is this guy. He threatens Bobby.”

At that Mr. Stark paused for a moment and frowned. Ms. Potts looked at him with worry, she had so far kept herself out of the fight. But just as Mr. Stark opened his mouth to say something back, Ms. Potts stopped him with gently hand on his forearm.

“Please explain, Peter,” she asked softly, “We will listen.”

Peter hesitated for a second. He looked Mr. Stark into the eyes, but he seemed to be willing to listen as well. The teenager gulped.

“Bobby’s mom had cancer. Or has. I don’t really know. Bobby and I never really talk a lot about his mom… or May… or anything really. But I know that when her insurance stopped paying for her pain meds, she started to buy stuff on the streets. I don’t really know what, but yeah. Drugs. She’s addicted, I guess. And then she had some debts with that guy Alex. He’s Bobby’s boss now and he’s like super scary. He told Bobby he could pay off his mom’s debts if he worked for him.”

Peter stopped. That was how much he knew about the story. Everything more would only be wild guesses.

“You’ve met this man named Alex?” Mr. Stark asked.

“Yeah. Once. He was at Bobby’s flat one night for like twenty minutes. That’s it.”

“Let me get this clear. Austen introduced you to a drug dealer?” His mentor’s voice sounded dangerous.

“No! It wasn’t like that! He didn’t know that Alex would come over.”

“Did he threaten you too?”

“What?”

“Did Alex threaten you?”

Peter thought back to that day. He remembered the sharp taste of vodka, the feeling of helplessness and Bobby’s tears after Alex had left the flat.

Then he remembered the day he had gotten ambushed by Alex’ henchmen because Peter had destroyed some of Bobby’s drugs, back when Peter had thought that he and the high school drug dealer would never be friends.

He remembered a gun against his back, a rough hand manhandling and violent kicks against his stomach and ribs. He remembered a phone call from the hospital as his aunt had been robbed and her arm had gotten broken.

“They are really scary, Mr. Stark,” Peter confessed, “I… I should have done something. I’m Spiderman. I should have helped Bobby! Instead… I don’t know. I don’t know why I was so scared.”

“Kid, no. I’m glad you didn’t try to do anything on your own,” the first time today his voice sounded soft, “A high school drug dealer is one thing, but that Alex guy could be dangerous.”

He paused for a second and then added with a slight smirk crossing his face, “I’m not saying that you probably couldn’t kick his ass, but the best move would be to contact the police.”

Then Mr. Stark turned to Ms. Potts. The woman nodded before Mr. Stark said anything to her. She pulled out her mobile phone and stood up.

“I’m going to call Tony’s lawyers, Peter,” she told her fiancée, “They can probably cut Bobby a good deal, if he helps the police to arrest Alex.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “You are going to help Bobby?”

“We are going to get him lawyers. Yeah,” Mr. Stark confirmed.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, Mr. Stark!”

 

* * *

 

It was past Peter’s bedtime, when Peter heard a knock on the door for the second time that evening. This time Mr. Stark waited for Peter to answer.

“Yeah?” Peter said a bit nervously. It almost twelve already. Mr. Stark and he had agreed that Peter would go to bed around half past eleven, but Peter hadn’t felt like going to sleep. Instead he was sitting at his table, trying to distract himself by reading some of his school books.

Mr. Stark entered the room, balancing two bowls of ice cream with a mountain of fruit on top in his hands.

“Why do you look so like just caught you doing something?” Mr. Stark asked suspiciously. His eyes darted around the room, but when he didn’t see anything wrong his eyes went back to Peter.

“Sorry, it’s almost twelve,” Peter admitted guiltily.

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow. “And? You turn back into a pumpkin at midnight?”

“It’s past my bedtime.”

“Really? Forgot about that. But it’s Friday. And this is not a prison, you know.”

He offered one of the ice-cream bowls to Peter. The teenager took it. Peter didn’t feel like eating ice cream right now, but he knew that it was kind of a peace offering.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

The man smiled back at him and sat down on am armchair close to Peter’s desk and started to eat his own ice-cream.

“So, I’ve talked to my lawyers. It’s looking good. They are confident that giving up Alex would be a get out of jail free card.”

Some relief washed over Peter. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“You know, what’s also interesting? The evidence the police had collected in Bobby’s apartment.” Mr. Stark continued. He pulled out his phone and displayed some files on in a hologram. Peter recognized it immediately. It was the notes he and Bobby had taken while working on the non-addictive drug.

“The detectives concluded,” Mr. Stark continued, “that Bobby is developing new drugs.” 

“Eat your ice cream, Pete,” the man pointed at the bowl on Peter’s desk, “I wasn’t really surprised about Bobby developing a drug. Your school teaches some decent chemistry. It kind of fits to Bobby boys profile. But then, imagine how I felt, when I recognized my protégé’s handwriting between the notes of young Heisenberg.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted in panic, “I can explain.”

“Nuh uh,” Mr. Stark stopped him, “I’m talking.” Then the man took a big spoon of ice cream and watched Peter who grew more and more nervous.

“But it’s not just a regular drug, is it?” Mr. Stark asked after swallowing.

His mentor studied his expression for a moment. “Non-addictive pain meds?” Mr. Stark then asked and breathed out an amused laugh. “That’s what you’ve been doing with a drug dealer? Working on non-addictive pain-medication? God, kid. I don’t think you know how teenage rebellions work.”

“I… sorry?” Peter didn’t really know what to say. Apologizing couldn’t be wrong

Mr. Stark smirked. “I’m not angry with you for working on a chemistry project. Well, only a little bit. I always hoped you would be more interested in engineering than chemistry, but it’s alright. You’ve done some decent work. If you and Bobby want, I can show it to Helen and ask for her opinion.”

“That would be great!” Peter said, “But you have to ask Bobby first. Most of this is his work. It had been working on it for months, I think. I just started helping him recently.”

“I will do that.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

They continued to eat the ice cream in silent. Peter suddenly felt hungry again and the sweet chocolate ice cream mixed with various berries tasted delicious.

After a while Mr. Stark seemed to want to say something again, but he hesitated.

“You know, kid, you haven’t told me yet _why_ you’ve been skipping school. I know now where you went, what you’ve been doing. But I don’t understand why. I know that Bobby hadn’t been skipping school. That’s what my lawyers told me,” Mr. Stark told Peter. His voice was calm trying not to start a fight again.

 Peter swallowed.

“I… I don’t really know, Mr. Stark.”

When he saw Mr. Stark’s face grow grim again, he quickly added, “It’s just hard to explain. I’m scared?”

“Scared of explaining it to me?”

“No! I’m scared of going back to school?” Peter said, but it sounded more like a question.

“Okay,” Mr. Stark nodded patiently, “Why are you scared?”

Uncertainly Peter looked at Mr. Stark.

“Come on, Peter. I can’t help you, if I don’t know what’s going on. Is it bullies?”

“No. It’s not that. My class gave me present after they returned from the field trip I didn’t go to,” Peter started his explanation.

“Okay?” Mr. Stark raised a questioning eyebrow, “That’s nice of them?”

“They gave it to me, because Ned told them about May. They know that… that I don’t have so much money and that I couldn’t even afford a backpack.”

Mr. Stark’s gaze went down and landed on the NASA backpack next to Peter’s desk.

“They bought you a backpack?”

“Yeah.”

“I still don’t get. Yeah, Ned shouldn’t have told them about May, if you didn’t want them to know, but they bought you a backpack because they wanted to cheer you up.”

“You don’t get it. It’s embarrassing. And Ned probably hates me now. I pushed him and he got hurt. I hurt my friend. And my whole class pities me! Well, now they probably all think that I’m like crazy or something.”

“You pushed your friend because your class gave you a backpack?” Mr. Stark asked in confusion.

“I know, I’m awful!”

“You aren’t kid. But you should apologize to your friend. Did you do that?”

Peter shook his head slowly, “I haven’t seen him since then. I got suspended, then I was sick and then… you know, I skipped school. I didn't really want to hurt him. It just happened.”

Mr. Stark pressed his lip together and thought for a second.

“Alright, kiddo. Tomorrow you are going to call Ned. You will apologize. That’s the right thing to do.”

Peter gave a hesitant nod. Mr. Stark gave him a satisfied smile and then continued to finish his ice cream.

“And about your class… To be honest, yeah, they probably pity you. Well, no. Sorry,” Mr. Stark quickly corrected, “That’s the wrong word. They feel compassion. Kid, you realize that you had some seriously bad luck?”

Peter’s eyes widened, not really knowing where Mr. Stark was going with this. When Peter didn’t answer anything, Mr. Stark just continued.

“You are just a kid and you are struggling with so much. But they are just kids too, you know. And when they heard what you’re going through they probably felt bad. Some of them had probably very shitty for enjoying the field trip, while you were stuck in school. They wanted to help. Do something nice for you. Just like you, when you help people as Spiderman. Tell me Peter, when you help the old lady across the street, do you think she’s pathetic? Do you pity her?”

“What, no. She’s just old. But that’s different.”

“How?”

“You don’t get, Mr. Stark,” Peter argued back, “I don’t want charity!”

That made Mr. Stark halt. He considered his next words carefully.

“Yeah, kid. Nobody wants to be in a situation that bad that they need other people’s help. You shouldn’t be in that situation in first place. Your aunt’s treatment should have been covered by her insurance and there should be some financial support by the government for people who have long-term sickness, especially if they have kids relying on them. Your school should have paid for your field trip, too,” Mr. Stark told him. Peter furrowed his brows a bit. He kind of wanted to protest, but he also agreed with Mr. Stark. It wasn’t as if Peter had never mused about how unfair the system was in the past months.

“Something is seriously wrong with this country, if a kid has to deliver pizza after school to pay for his only guardian’s cancer treatment. But that’s not something you can change now. Nor can your classmates. But what they could do, was to buy you a backpack, which you obviously needed.”

“It’s charity.” Peter claimed again, but with less certainty in his voice.

“I don’t think it is, Pete. It was just nice.” Mr. Stark stood up and walked over to Peter. “You know, kid, sometimes it’s alright to ask for help. It doesn’t make you any less strong, smart and generally amazing. You don’t need to do everything on you own.”

“My class hates me now.” Peter mumbled, feeling even more embarrassed about how he had run out of the classroom.

“I seriously doubt it, Peter. They are probably confused about what they have done wrong. But I don’t think they hate you. And I don’t think Ned hates you either. He knows about your super-strength. You didn’t want to hurt him on purpose, I’m sure he knows it.” Mr. Stark told him.

“I… I sorry. I shouldn’t have skipped school,” Peter apologized.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Mr. Stark agreed. “You should have just talked to me Peter. Don’t keep anything from me. It’s not helping anybody. You should have told me about your what happened in your class and with Ned. And you should have told me about Bobby and Alex earlier.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Apology accepted.”

Then Mr. Stark came even one step closer to Peter and pulled the teenager into a hug. Peter was still sitting and his cheek got pressed against Mr. Stark’s upper stomach.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Mr. Stark admitted, “I didn’t react how I should have after I met Bobby.”

A hand went through Peter’s hair.

“And sorry, for holding May’s treatment over your head. That was the worst thing I’ve ever said. I hope you know that I didn’t mean it. It was just the heat of the moment.”

“I know, Mr. Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for you reviews! The next update might take a while. It will probably take me about a month, because I'm very busy right now. But I will be back, the story is not over yet...


	29. Chapter 29

 

It was Saturday morning. Peter was staring at his phone. He had slept really well that night, better than he had the whole week. Still he had woken up with uneasy feeling in his stomach.

He looked back at the backpack next to his desk and on the NASA sweatshirt hanging over a chair in his room.

He had been an ass, the teenager thought regretfully. Why would Ned ever want to talk to him ever again?

But Peter had told Mr. Stark that he would call his friend and Peter didn’t think that the man deserved to be lied to, not again at least.

Quickly, before Peter lost his courage, he pressed the call button next to a picture of his friend with a wide smile on his round face.

The phone had already been ringing for a while, when Peter realized that it was Saturday morning. Peter rarely slept past 9:30, but he knew that Ned had a habit of sleeping until noon. But before Peter could decide, if he should hang up or not, he could hear Ned’s sleepy voice on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah?” The other teenager asked.

“Ned, hey. Uh, sorry for waking you…”

“Peter?” Ned almost shouted into the phone; any sleep had left the other boy’s voice.

“Yeah, it’s me, Ned.”

Peter could hear Ned taking a deep breath and holding it. There was an uncomfortable silence.

“I’m sorry,” both suddenly yelled then in unison.

“What?” Again, both boys talked at the same time.

“What are you sorry for, Ned?” Peter asked.

“For telling the class about May! Peter you have every right to angry at me. I should have kept my mouth shut. I know I shouldn’t have let Flash provoke me. I know you’re angry, … But I…I… miss you, man. I’m so glad you’ve finally called. I just want you to come back to school,” Ned explained hastily.

Peter’s throat felt tight. Ned thought Peter was angry at _him_? 

“What?” Peter asked again, his brain still processing everything Ned had just said.

“I’m sorry! Please, I know I did something shitty, but… but just come back to school. Please, dude.”

Then Peter gulped. “Ned, I’m not angry at you. But you should be angry at me. I pushed you. You had a concussion.”

“Oh, yeah. That,” Ned said almost as if he had already forgotten about it, “Well, I guess, that’s the downside of having an enhanced super-hero as a friend.”

Peter could almost hear Ned’s smile through the phone. Peter’s lips to curled up to a smile, too, but at the same time his eyes filled with tears.

“That is…” Ned started hesitantly, “If you still want to be friends.”

“What? Yeah, yeah, Ned. Yes. Of course, I want to be friends. But, Ned, I was an ass. I mean, yeah, you shouldn’t have told the class, but it was just a mistake. I know that you guys were only trying to be nice and I acted… well, I’m just sorry.”

There was a short pause, before Ned spoke again. “It’s alright, Peter. I mean, I understand. I can’t imagine what you are going through. I should have tried harder to contact you, I was just… I don’t know. You seemed so angry.”

Peter wiped tears out of his eyes.

“Ned, I’m not angry. It’s just… so much has happened.”

“I know, dude. How is May?” Ned asked carefully.

Peter gulped. “Not good.”

“I’m sorry, Peter. If you want to hang out or something…”

 “Maybe…” Peter started, hesitating for a second as he wondered if Mr. Stark would be alright with guests, but then decided that the man probably was, “Do you want to come by?”

“Yeah, of course,” there was some excitement in Ned’s voice, “But where are you living now, dude? When you didn’t pick up the phone after our fight, I went to your and your aunt’s apartment. There is this Asian family living your apartment now and they wouldn’t tell me where you lived.”

“Sorry... I should have told you. I don’t live there anymore.”

“Where are you living now?” his friend asked suspiciously.

“I kind of live with Mr. Stark,” Peter admitted and felt his cheeks grow hot exactly knowing how his friend would react.

“You what? You live with Iron Man?” Ned pretty much shouted into the phone.

“Yeah. Since two weeks,” Peter explained, “You know, May is in the hospital and CPS wouldn’t have let me stay on my own.”

The excitement left Ned like hot air a popped balloon. “Right,” the other teen muttered, “Uh, so, you’re at the Avengers Compound?”

“Mr. Stark, Ms.  Potts and I staying in Manhattan. He has an apartment here. It’s pretty awesome,” Peter told his friend, “You should definitely come by.”

“Yeah, how about after lunch?”

 

* * *

 

  
Peter carefully shuffled into the kitchen. Mr. Stark had already made some eggs and bacon. Ms. Potts was sitting next to the kitchen island sipping some coffee, while reading something on her tablet.

“Good morning, Spiderling,” Mr. Stark greeted him, still focused on something that seemed to be pancakes on the stove.

“Good morning,” Peter greeted back and took a stool next to Pepper. Immediately Mr. Stark poured him some orange juice, already knowing Peter’s preferences.

“You slept well?” Mr. Stark wanted to know.

“Yeah, thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter answered.

Just as he wanted to tell Mr. Stark that Ned was coming over, Peter suddenly felt uncertain again. He had just assumed that Mr. Stark was fine with Peter having his friend over. But what if he wasn’t? It was still Mr. Stark’s home and Peter was just a guest. Wasn’t it incredibly rude to invite other guests as a guest?

“Mr. Stark,” Peter begun, “Uh…“

Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark both turned their heads towards him.

“What’s wrong?” They asked in unison, a rising panic audible in their voices.

Peter could feel his ears turn red.

“I… Is it alright, if Ned comes over?” Peter finally asked. For a dreadful second, neither Ms. Potts nor Mr. Stark said anything, and Peter feared that he would have to cancel his friend. But then huge, happy smile formed on Mr. Stark’s face.

“So, you’ve talked to him?” The man wanted to know.

“Uh, yeah. It’s just like you said, he’s not really angry. So… it’s fine, if he comes?” Peter asked again.

“Yes, sure!” Mr. Stark agreed and relief washed over Peter, “Is he coming for lunch? Should I cook something?”

For a second Peter had to grin, when he thought about how Ned would freak out, if Iron Man cooked for him. “He comes after lunch, actually…”

“I will just get some snacks then. What do you guys like? Kids still like chips, right? Some coke?”

Mr. Stark’s enthusiasm almost confused Peter.

“Chips and coke would be great, Mr. Stark. But I can get them myself, don’t worry.”

“I will order some, no worries. How about… You don’t have many things here... What do you guys usually do? Should I get you some Legos or something?”

Peter blushed a bit more. Yes, he and Ned still played Lego, how Mr. Stark knew that, he didn’t know. But his mentor was apparently oblivious to the fact that most fifteen-year-old boys have already stopped playing Legos.

“We’re going to be fine, Mr. Stark. We’ve got lot to catch up on, I guess,” Peter told his mentor.

“Alright, but if you change your mind, I will make Happy go get you some Lego.”

“Please, don’t bother Happy,” Peter said and thought how embarrassing it would be, if Mr. Stark would send Happy to get him Legos of all things. He imagined Happy walking into a toy shop asking for Legos for fifteen year olds and a shop assistant then explaining to Happy that most fifteen year old wouldn’t be interested in Legos anymore.

“Oh, it wouldn’t bother him at all. I think, right now, he would do anything for you. If you told him that you wanted a special edition Lego set only available in Japan, he would be on the next plane to Tokyo.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Peter muttered.  Mr. Stark placed a plate full of pancakes in front Peter.

“Oh, believe me, he would. I don’t know how, but you have that man wrapped around your finger, Spider-Boy.”

Ms. Potts leaned closer to Peter and told him in a whispery, conspiratorial tone, “You’ve got Tony wrapped around your finger, too, you know. He would also take the next plane to Tokyo.”

“Absolutely not true,” Mr. Stark negated.

“Yeah?” Ms. Potts asked challenging her fiancé with a slight smirk on her face.

“Yes, I wouldn’t take a plane. I would take a suit to Tokyo. Much faster.”

* * *

 

 

“Dude, this is so cool!” Ned exclaimed as they entered Peter’s room. “Living with Tony Stark? Man, that’s so cool.”

“Yeah,” Peter said shifting on his feet uncomfortably.

“I can’t believe I just met Tony Stark,” Ned continued. “And he knows my name!”

“He called you Ted,” Peter objected, but Ned only shrugged his shoulder.

“Close enough,” Ned said, his smile still not disappearing. “Wow, the view. This is freaking crazy.” Ned walked over to window of Peter’s room. He had a view on the Brooklyn bridge.

“Yeah, I guess,” Peter followed his friend and also looked out of his window. As beautiful as the view was, Peter somehow didn’t manage to enjoy it.

“So, how long are you staying with Mr. Stark?” Ned wanted to know, “How long is May going to be in the hospital?”

Peter swallowed. “I… I don’t know Ned.”

At that the smile on his friend’s face fell.

“She’s going to be alright, right? I mean cancer is curable today. My grandma had like breast cancer five years ago and she’s super fine now.” Ned told Peter, “And she’s so much older than May. May has much better chances.”

Ned’s eyes met Peter’s. Peter could see how Ned grew more and more uneasy with each second.

“She’s going to be alright, Peter. I’m sure,” Ned tried to reaffirm. Peter only managed to shake his head briefly, before tears started rolling down his cheeks.

Ned stepped closer to his friend and squeezed his shoulder.

“Peter, she’s going to be fine,” Ned tried to convince him, “She’s a tough lady.”

Again, Peter shook his head.

“The doctor said,” Peter said, and his own voice sounded so distant to him, that it barely felt like his own, “The doctor said that her cancer is terminal.”

Ned’s eyes widened with fear and shock. “No,” he protested, “No! She can’t… They are wrong. They must be wrong!” Then Ned stopped himself from saying more.

Ned was standing in front of Peter, completely still, but inside he wasn’t. Peter could hear Ned’s heartbeat, fast and panicky. Then the other teenager pulled Peter in a hug.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so, so sorry.” He tightened his arms around Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I was very busy. The next chapter should come next week though :)


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up. A long chapter.

Tony sighed in relief, when he sat down in his lab at the end of his day. As bad as the day before had been with finding out that Peter had been skipping school, as good it felt that they had finally cleared the air between them (again). His lawyers worked hard to keep that Bobby kid out of prison and Peter had finally talked to his nerdy friend Ned again.

The two boys had talked for hours, but Tony had resisted on spying on them through Friday. Ned had ended up staying for dinner. It had been an awkward dinner, but awkward in a very adorable way. It was obvious that Ned was a huge Iron-Man fanboy, but the kid had tried to play it cool. When Tony had asked him, if he wanted to see the Avenger’s compound one day, Tony thought that Ned would faint on the dining table. Peter’s eyes had been puffy though and Tony exactly knew that the kid had been crying. Tony had tried not to show that he had noticed.

Later that evening, when Peter had told Tony and Pepper good night, the kid had a smile on his lips though. And with everything that had happened the past few weeks, Tony cherished any moment, when his Spider-kid was happy (or at least not downright depressed).

All in all, Tony thought that the day had been successful. He hadn’t spent much time in the lab ever since Peter moved in with him, but today he felt like working late. Not because he was anxious or nervous or feared his nightmares, but just because he was in a good mood and some fun ideas had been swirling around in his head for most of the day now. Even Pepper hadn’t given him her usual scolding glance, when he went to the lab instead of to bed. Instead she had given him a gentle kiss and told him that she loved him.

Tony could easily focus on his work and he didn’t notice the hours that had passed.

It was almost four in the morning when Friday’s voice startled him out of his trance like state, he sometimes got into while he worked.

“Boss, Dr Cho is calling.”

Tony held his breath. A call that late at night from Helen, made Tony fear for the worst and hope for the best in the same time. A call that late could only mean that something about May’s or Rhodey’s condition had changed drastically. To the better or to the worse.

“Put her through, Fri,” Tony muttered.

“Hello? Tony?” Helen’s voice asked.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Tony answered, trying to hide his anxiousness.

“Sorry, for waking you, Tony…” Helen started.

“No worries, I wasn’t sleeping yet,” Tony answered quickly, “What is it Helen? Good or bad news?”

“Rhodey woke up,” Helen answered.

Tony needed a moment to process the information. But when he did, Tony jumped up from his chair and started looking for his car-keys on his table between the mess he made, while tinkering.

“How is he? What did he say? Did he say anything?” Tony was still rummaging through various metal scraps. He was sure he had left his keys somewhere on the table. He hissed, when he cut himself on sharp piece of metal.

“He was only awake for a few seconds. He asked about you and Peter. When I told him that you guys were fine, he immediately fell asleep again.”

Tony tried not to curse as blood started dripping down from his hand on his workplace. He quickly grabbed a cloth. It was oil stained, but Tony pressed it against the cut on his hand anyway.

“But, that’s good, right? He can speak and remembers that he was on a mission with me and Peter? That means he probably doesn’t have brain damage?” Tony asked medical doctor.

“Well, I will have to do some more tests, to confirm if he doesn’t have any brain damage, but for now… yes, Tony, it’s good news,” Helen explained.

Some tension in his chest, which Tony didn’t even know was there, left the man. The man’s biggest fear was to lose the few close people around him. And some part of him knew that it was just a matter of time until it would happen. But it wouldn’t happen now. He wouldn’t lose Rhodey.

Dum-E appeared next to Tony, making a squeaking noise and held out Tony’s car keys.

“I will come over,” Tony said to Helen and took the keys from Dum-E.

“He will probably sleep through the rest of the night, Tony, but I expect that he will wake up tomorrow. I’m getting some rest now, too, but I will see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Helen. See you later.”

“See you.”

When the phone call ended, Tony quickly got out of his lab. He shortly considered waking Pepper up, but then decided against it. Friday would let her know about Rhodey as soon as she would wake up. Tony grabbed his coat and he had almost entered the elevator, when he saw Peter standing in the hallway. He was dressed as well in his new coat and jeans. He was still wearing his pyjama pants though.

“I’m coming with you. I want to see Mr. Rhodes too,” Peter said decisively.

Tony frowned a bit at the teenager. “How do you know about Rhodey?”

Tony had sound-proofed his lab and his and Pepper’s bedroom. Not everything he and his fiancée talked about was meant for the teenager’s ears. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach, when he thought about all the conversations, that Peter shouldn’t have heard.

 “I asked Friday to update me on Mr. Rhodes,” Peter explained, and Tony felt breathed out in relief. At least Peter hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“It’s late, Pete. You should go to sleep. I can ask Happy to drive you to the compound in the morning,” Tony suggested.

“Please, Mr. Stark. If he wakes up, I need to see him, too.”

With a sigh Tony gave in. “Alright, come on then, Underoos.”

 

* * *

 

 

Tony had managed to convince Peter to get some sleep in one of the guestroom of the compound. Tony probably should have done so himself, but instead Tony spend his time watching Rhodey.

Tony doubted that he could get any sleep now anyway and watching Rhodey relaxed the man. Maybe it was only the Tony’s imagination, but he could swear that his friend looked better. The morning hours passed slowly, and the sun was up already for a few hours, when Rhodey stirred in his bed.

“Rhodey?” Tony asked. “Buddy, you with me?”

Rhodey grunted a few times in discomfort, but slowly his eyes fluttered open.

“Tony?” The man asked in a raspy voice, his eyes darting around before focusing on Tony. Quickly Tony grabbed some water that Helen had left on Rhodey’s night table and helped the man to take some sips from a cup.

“Yeah, it’s me, Rhodey,” Tony confirmed.

Rhodey’s started to look around the room again as if in search of something. Or someone.

“The kid? Is the kid alright? Did he make it out?” Rhodey wanted to know, his voice close to panic. The soldier tried to get up in the bed, but Tony pressed him back easily. Tony took a deep breath. For Tony the mission for Poland felt like months ago. So much has happened the past few weeks and the question, if the kid was alright was a complicated one. But he knew that Rhodey needed to know how the mission had ended.

“Peter is fine. He’s sleeping upstairs. He banged his head pretty hard during the mission in Poland, but thanks to his super-healing he was fine again the next day.”

Rhodey squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of Tony’s words.

“How long have I’ve been out?” The Colonel wanted to know. Tony took Rhodey’s hands in his.

“About seven weeks,” Tony told the man, “You had a skull fracture and your lung got punctured by a broken rip. After the mission we’ve spend about another three weeks in Europe before the doctors deemed you stable enough for transport over the Atlantic.”

“Crap,” Rhodey muttered and leaned back into his pillow. He looked at the ceiling.

“So, what’s the doctor’s verdict?” Rhodey then asked carefully and glanced at Tony.

“Well, you will never walk again,” Tony answered.

Rhodey huffed a laugh, that turned into a cough.

“You’re an asshole, you know that, Tony?”

Tony reached for the water again, smirking. This time Rhodey took the cup himself and held the straw to his mouth with a shaking hand.

“Dr Cho was worried about brain damage, but I would say you seem fine. Your skull fracture and your lung have healed fine,” Tony told his friend.

Rhodey took a deep breath.

“Seven weeks, huh?”

“Yeah, seven weeks.”

Rhodey closed his eyes again. “Did I miss anything?”

When Tony didn’t answer anything, Rhodey opened his eyes again, his worried gaze fixed on Tony.

“What happened Tony?”

“I…” Tony was hesitant about telling Rhodey anything that might upset the injured man, but then Rhodey would probably just imagine the worst, if Tony didn’t tell him the truth. And for a man who had been a soldier for most of his life and more recently also an Avenger, the worst could mean anything. From war, to super-soldiers, to alien invasions, there wasn’t exactly anything that was out of the realm of possibilities anymore.

“Peter is living with me and Pepper,” Tony started. Rhodey’s eyes widened.

“What happened?”

“His aunt is sick. Cancer. Terminal,” Tony summarized, “He had nowhere else to go.”

“You’ve adopted Spider-Man?” Rhodey asked his voice a little bit confused.

“I’m fostering him, I guess. Not adopted. Yet. Maybe. I don’t know.”

For a moment Rhodey stared at Tony as if the billionaire was crazy, but then the other man relaxed again and huffed another laugh.

“So, I’m an uncle now?”

Tony smiled at that. But before Tony could think of a witty reply, Rhodey had fallen asleep again.

 

* * *

 

 

After his brief conversation with Rhodey, Tony had managed to doze off in his chair as well. It was Helen, who woke him up for the first time. She was holding Tony’s hand in hers. It took Tony a moment to realize that she was checking out on the cut on his hand that he had bandaged up with the dirty cloth.

“Seriously Tony,” she muttered in annoyance, when she saw the man waking up, “For a genius you can sometimes be incredibly dump. Are you trying to get an infection?”

Helen had removed the cloth and sprayed the cut with some disinfectant.

“Ouch,” Tony winced and tried to pull his hand away, but Helen just rolled her eyes and tightened her grip around Tony’s wrist.

“I don’t think it needs to be stitched, but oil stained wash cloths are not sanitary, Tony.”

“I was in a rush,” Tony defended himself, but Helen just shook her hand disbelievingly.

Tony watched her wrap the cut up. When she was done, he looked back at Rhodey.

“He woke up again,” Tony told the doctor, “He seemed fine. He even laughed at some jokes. That’s good, right? Rhodey will be fine?”

Helen smiled softly at Tony. “Yeah, I think so, too. Maybe you should get some rest now, too? Upstairs I mean? In a real bed?”

“I’m fine here,” Tony claimed. Helen nodded, probably knowing that she had no chance of convincing the billionaire to get some real rest.

* * *

 

The second time Tony was woken with the smell of strong coffee.

Peter was standing in the room, looking slightly lost.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark!” The kid mumbled, “I didn’t know you were sleeping. I made you some coffee and I grabbed some croissant from the cafeteria, but now I just woke you up… Sorry, I will go again…”

Tony sighed. He wished that the kid would just finally relax around him and maybe stop calling him Mr. Stark as well. Although Tony had to admit that he had gotten used to being Mr. Stark and that he kind of found Peter’s relentless politeness adorable.

“It’s fine, Pete. Coffee sounds great. Thanks for waking me before chair got a chance to kill my back,” he answered and stretched his aching back.

Peter gave Tony the coffee and the croissant. “Friday told me that Mr. Rhodes woke up this morning.”

Tony nodded, “Yeah, we had a brief conversation.”

“So, uh, he doesn’t have brain damage?”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Tony said and took a sip from the coffee.

“Do I smell coffee?” Rhodey suddenly muttered, startling both Peter and Tony.

“Mr. Rhodes!” Peter exclaimed surprise. “I… how are you?”

Rhodey smiled at Peter, “I’m good, Peter. Thanks.”

Peter was standing strangely stiff. His fists were clenched tightly and he was staring at Rhodey. It was hard to guess what the kid was thinking, until suddenly words started to blurt out of the teenager.

“I’m sorry,” Peter started to apologize, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Rhodes. I shouldn’t have freed the Hydra-soldiers. I put you in danger and I didn’t listen to you or Mr. Stark. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want to get you hurt. I’m sorry.”

“Peter, stop,” Rhodey said. He tried to raise the volume of his voice, but his voice was still too raspy, “You don’t have to apologize about anything.”

“I do! I should have listened to you and Mr. Stark. You could have died. It’s all my fault.”

“But I didn’t die. Kid, nothing is your fault,” Rhodey insisted, “You did, what you thought is right. It’s not your fault. If anything,” Rhodey’s eyes met Tony’s, “We shouldn’t have taken you to Poland.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter muttered again, his voice cracking.

“It’s alright,” Rhodey said again soothingly, but it didn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” Peter repeated again.

 Tony, who couldn’t stand watching Peter beat himself, went with a hand through the teenager’s hair and then pulled him into a hug. Guilt was spreading in Tony’s stomach. He could only imagine how Peter had felt after the mission, when Tony had been harsh and cold to him. His stomach turned when he thought about Peter alone on that field bed  in the group home with his aunt dying from cancer, and thinking that he couldn’t call Tony, because Tony was blaming him for Rhodey.

“I told you already,” Tony said to Peter, “It’s not your fault.”

Peter leaned into Tony.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…” Peter continued mumbling.

 

* * *

 

 

After Peter had calmed down, Tony started to tell Rhodey about more trivial things that had happened the past few weeks. He told him about Happy’s holidays, he told him about Pepper’s most recent interview in the New York times, how the new Stark Phone was going to be a huge success. He also updated Rhodey about the newest discussions in politics. Tony though tried to avoid to talk about anything concerning SHIELD or how the rest of the mission turned out. Peter still seemed a bit shaken as he was sitting in the corner of the room, watching the two men interact.

They had never found the escaped HYDRA super-soldiers and he really didn’t want Peter blaming himself for that, too. At some point though, Rhodey fell asleep again and Tony managed to convince Peter to get some lunch.

Tony was leaning back on his chair, again watching his friend.

“You know,” Rhodey suddenly said, opening only one eye, “it’s a bit creepy to watch people sleep.”

Tony grinned.

“Well, it’s also rude to just fall asleep in the middle of a conversation,” Tony replied.

“Oh, alright.  It’s just that, I’ve been in a freaking coma for the past few weeks.”

Tony continued to smile. He had missed his best friend.

“So, what had been that?” Rhodey suddenly asked.

“Had been what?”

“The kid. Beating himself up about the mission.”

Tony gulped. Guilt boiling up in his stomach again.

“That’s how he is,” Tony tried to downplay Peter’s reaction, but Rhodey just narrowed his eyes.

“You told him that it wasn’t his fault, right?” Rhode asked.

“Yeah, of course.” Tony said shifting uncomfortably on his chair.

“When?”

“What?”

“When did you tell him?”

“After the mission,” Tony said. Technically that wasn’t a lie. Three weeks after the mission, was still _after_ the mission.

Rhodey glanced at Tony with scrutinizing eyes for a few seconds.

“No, you didn’t. You blamed him, didn’t you?” Rhodey concluded. Tony slumped in his chair, almost a little bit annoyed how observant Rhoday was, even after spending over one month in a coma.

“I screwed up. Big time,” Tony finally admitted.

“Tony,” Rhodey, “how could you have put the blame on something like a failed mission on a kid?”

“It was just… Rhodey, he didn’t listen. He could have gotten you and himself killed. He was being reckless.”

“I can’t believe you. You are still blaming him?”

“What? No! I just… I don’t know,” Tony said. He was suddenly incredibly glad that he had soundproofed most of the Avengers compound because of various individuals with enhanced abilities and super-spies possibly eavesdropping on conversations. He was glad that Peter couldn’t accidentally overhear them.

“We shouldn’t have taken him to the mission,” Rhodey said.

“I know, Rhodey! I know, I know, I know.” Tony stood up and went with a hand through his hair.

“Then stop blaming him,” Rhodey argued.

“I’m not! I’m not blaming him, alright?” Tony said back, “It’s just… I could have lost both of you. I could have lost both of you because the kid is too good for his own good. Too good for this god damn world.”

“He’s a kid. We asked him to leave some people to die in an explosion. We asked too much from him.”

“They were super-soldiers in a secret lab from Hydra,” Tony yelled, “And he wanted to possibly sacrifice himself for _them?_ ”

“He’s a good person.”

“Yeah? Well, then I wish that he was just a little bit less good. You know, a streak of egoism and self-perseverance doesn’t harm anybody,” Tony claimed.

“Says the man who pushed a nuclear bomb through a wormhole into space.”

“Well, I was saving the whole fucking city including everybody I loved. Not some evil soldiers in glass tubes.”

“Tony…” Rhodey said. His voice was weaker again, the argument was apparently tiring him out quickly. “I…” Rhodey paused for a second, “I helped him in the end. I helped him free those Hydra soldiers. What if after everything we see things too much in black and white? What if Peter is right? In that moment, down there in Hydra’s base… I had wished… I wished I could be like him. That I could see the world like him.”

Rhodey’s words where trailing off, his voice getting softer and his eyes closing again. “I wish I could see just people. He sees people in everybody. You know, as a soldier you get trained to see enemies, targets, criminals but he… he sees people. He does the right thing without thinking twice. He gives people a chance. I admire that, even though I don’t think I will ever be able to be like that.”

Tony sat back in chair and sighed.

“I know. It’s just…” Tony answered, “I want him to be save. I don’t think I could stand losing him… I love him, you know?”

Rhodey’s eyes were shut close again. Tony didn’t know if the man was already sleeping or not.

 

* * *

 

 

In the late afternoon, Tony and Peter were on their way back to New York City again. Rhodey had woken up twice more and once Helen managed to ask him a few questions. In the end Tony decided that he would come back the next day.

They were on the way to May’s hospital now, Peter hadn’t had a chance to see her since Wednesday. She was still in the hospital in the city, she had vehemently refused to be transferred to the compound. But Helen Cho had managed to arrange an agreement with the hospital and that she and her team could treat May.

“Are you going to tell May that I skipped school?” Peter asked nervously, when they were only a few more blocks away from the hospital.

Tony looked at the teenager for a few seconds.

“No,” Tony answered briefly. He would like to think that he wasn’t telling May about it, because he didn’t want to stress a woman who was already busy enough fighting cancer, but the truth was that Tony was too embarrassed to tell the woman. He had promised her to take care of her nephew and he had screwed it up. Again.

“Thanks,” Peter muttered relieved.

“But if you skip school again, I will tell her,” Tony threatened, and Peter nodded in understanding.

Tony parked his car in the underground garage of the hospital.

When they entered the elevator, Peter automatically went to press the button for the third floor, but Tony stopped him.

“She’s not on the t floor anymore. I got her a better room,”

“Oh, really?” Peter asked, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Yeah, kiddo,” Tony said smile and pressed the button to the fourth floor.

Tony quickly lead Peter down the hospital hall, glancing at the doors, trying to find the right one. With a smile he stopped, when he saw the right number.

They knocked and immediately May answered. They entered the room. They pushed the door open. May was sitting on coach in the room. To Tony’s surprise Happy was sitting next to her.

Tony had asked his former bodyguard to check up on Peter’s aunt, but that had been two days ago, when he and Peter hadn’t managed to visit her. As far as Tony knew, today was actually Happy’s day off. Peter next to Tony seemed confused as well, but the teen got quickly distracted by the rest of the room.

 The private hospital room wasn’t as great as Tony had hoped since the billionaire had asked for the best room the hospital had to offer, but it was definitely an update to May’s previous room. The room seemed warmer, painted in a soft beige, there was wooden floor instead of the usual linoleum floor. A few paintings were hanging at the wall and one huge television screen.

“May,” Peter said, “so good to see you.” The teenager walked over to the woman and pulled his aunt into a hug.

“You look better,” the teenager continued. May smiled at him.

“I feel better. I think it’s the new medication Dr Cho has me on. It makes me feel much less nauseous.”

May pulled Peter into a hug again, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Peter flushed, obviously a bit embarrassed to get cuddled by his aunt with Tony and Happy in the room.

“Hey Happy, how about we get some coffee?” Tony suggested.

Instantly Happy stood up, the man also seemed embarrassed about the situation.

“Yeah, good, idea. Uh, May, do you want something from downstairs?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Happy.”

Happy nodded and quickly followed Tony out of the room.

When they reached the elevator, Tony grinned and turned to his friend.

“So…? What are you doing here?” Tony began.

“What? You asked me to check up on her,” Happy defended himself.

“Uh huh. I asked you on Friday. Are you telling me you didn’t manage to check up on her earlier?” Tony raised an eyebrow and glanced at the man.

Happy blushed. “She’s a nice lady. I visited her on Friday, and I might have told her that I would come back the next day.”

“And the day after?”

“I’m just thinking. She must be bored. Hospitals are boring. And the food is awful. I have cooked too much lunch and brought her some.”

Tony couldn’t stop grinning for a while.

 

* * *

 

 

That night Peter, Pepper and Tony had ordered some pizza. Pepper and Tony had both been too exhausted to cook and a pizza on Sunday night didn’t seem to bad. Four half full pizza boxes were now on the living room couch, Peter was the only one still eating.

They had turned on a Star Wars movie. Pepper had immediately fallen asleep in Tony’s arms, while Peter was sitting on the edge of the couch, focused on the movie as if the he hadn’t seen the movie a zillion times already. Tony smiled as watched the kid grabbing one piece of pizza after another barely aware that he was still eating.

Tony kissed Pepper’s hair, leaned his head against hers and then closed his eyes as well.  The exhaustion after an almost sleepless night finally catching up with him.

He quickly fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later Tony woke up again. Pepper was still in his arms. He could feel her slow and warm breaths against his chest. Peter was lying next to him too now, asleep, his head half on a pillow half on Tony’s lab. The kid was snoring slightly. The Star Wars movie was apparently finished, as the now muted TV was turned on to a news channel.

Tony smiled and for moment wished he could just live in this moment forever. The two people he loved most next to him, where he could protect them, keep them save.

He went with a hand through Peter’s hair. But he knew, he couldn’t protect them from everything. He could try, but in the end, there was too much out of his control.

Tony continued to caress Peter’s hair and gently brushed over his cheek. Tony huffed a silent laugh, when he felt first beard hairs on the kid’s cheek. He would have to tell the kid to shave sometime soon. Well, probably even teach him how to shave, because that was Tony’s job now, wasn’t it?

Peter looked so incredibly young though, when he was asleep. But Tony also knew that Peter had been through too much. He would grow up quickly. It pained Tony to think, that he might have played a role in the rushed ending of Peter’s childhood. He should have never dragged the kid into everything. But the man had been too curious about the wall-crawling whizz kid. When Natasha and he had looked for more people to team up with them against Cap, Tony had almost been too eager to get to know the kid in Queens. And once he had Peter involved, he couldn’t just keep him away. He had tried that, and it had only resulted in a sunken ferry and a crushed plane on Coney Island. It was dangerous to keep him close and it was even more dangerous to keep him away. And there was nothing in between, not now anyway.

Tony breathed a heavy breath and looked at the TV screen. Apparently, some report about the White House had just ended and they switched to an amateur video clip. It was a blurry clip of two people talking. The camera slowly got into focus. Tony recognized the street then. It was in Queens; in fact, it was right in front of Bobby’s apartment.

And then Tony saw, what was being filmed. It was him and Peter. It was their fight, right after they had left Bobby’s apartment.

 _“Peter, stop! Where are you even going?”,_ the TV was still muted, but there were subtitles to the low-quality video.

“ _I don’t have to listen to you_!” the teen had replied.

“ _Yeah, you have, I’m your guardian now.”,_ Tony had shouted back in his anger. It was weird to see himself on the screen like this. He was used to see himself on the news, but usually Tony was calm and collected, cracking jokes and being out-right obnoxious.

 _“I don’t care! Just unsign the papers then. I’m going back to the group home.”_ Peter had said. It pained Tony to hear those words. He went with a hand through his sleeping kid’s hair. _Unsign the papers._  As if any of this was about a paper, a legal document.

_“What about your aunt, huh? I just paid 200,000 dollars for her treatment. You care about that?”_

He couldn’t see Peter’s face in the video. It had was turned away from the camera. But he suddenly remembered Peter’s expression in that moment all too well. Peter had looked shocked, shaken even. There had been some deep, raw distrust in Peter’s eyes, that must have been there long before their argument on Bobby’s doorsteps.

The video clip ended at that and there was a cut back to the studio, where a news anchor was talking.

 

“Friday, turn the volume on. Low please,” Tony said in a whispery tone, hoping that he would wake neither Pepper nor Peter.

“ _Only one hour ago, the web news media outlet the Daily Bugle uploaded the video of billionaire Tony Stark having an argument with a teenager, Peter P._ ”, the news anchor said, _“It appears that Stark is extorting the minor, who is currently in the care of the billionaire. Peter P., a genius fifteen-year-old who attends the prestigious STEM high school Midtown Tech in Queens, is an intern at SI since last spring. The teen’s guardian fell ill with terminal cancer and he is now fostered by Tony Stark. We’re now switching to an interview Keith Smith, author of Tony Stark’s unauthorized biography, ‘The Prodigal Son’_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter! Thanks for the reviews and sticking with this story which is now getting really long...
> 
> To be honest, I think it might be slightly unrealistic how well Rhodey was after waking up from a seven week coma... Let's just assume that he's a very tough guy.


	31. Chapter 31

“I can’t believe you, Tony!” Pepper shouted. They were both standing in their bedroom, where Peter couldn’t hear them even with his enhanced hearing. Shortly after Tony had first seen the news report about him allegedly extorting a teenager, Tony had had to wake up Pepper. With wide eyes both Peter and Pepper had watched the report. Peter hadn’t said anything, but Pepper had told Tony to follow him into the bedroom.

“How could you have said something like that to Peter? Blackmail him into listening to you?” She continued scolding him.

“It wasn’t blackmail. It was just something I said in the heat of the moment. I didn’t mean it.”

Pepper glared at Tony.

“How could you, Tony? How? Peter has a hard time accepting our help already and saying something like this to him… He’s fifteen, Tony. You don’t talk to fifteen years olds about medical bills and you don’t use them to _extort_ them…”

 “I didn’t extort him. And he knows that I didn’t mean it. I apologized and he told me it was fine,” Tony defended himself. He hated how much this whole discussion seemed to be taken out of context.

“Of course, he would tell you it’s fine. He doesn’t have much choice, does he?” Pepper argued.

“He was fine with it,” Tony claimed again.

“But it wasn’t fine, Tony. What you’ve said to that boy in that video, that’s one of the worst things you’ve ever done.”

“Alright, alright, alright. I get it,” Tony raised his hand and admitted, “I shouldn’t have said anything about the costs of May’s treatment to Peter and I certainly shouldn’t have held it over his head.”

Pepper was very still for a moment. Her eye’s met Tony’s.

“I’m not sure, if you get it. Every other safety net in that kid’s life has snapped. And here you are, his very last safety net and you make this safety conditional? That’s…. that’s abusive behaviour Tony.” Pepper’s voice was shaking.

Tony held his breath. Pepper’s harsh words make Tony’s throat feel tight.

“I didn’t mean it, Pepper. I would never… God, I’m not _abusive_. I’m not. How can you even say that? I… I would never hurt Peter. Never. It was a mistake, alright? I had just found out about Bobby and I’d lost it. I know, I shouldn’t have said that, but I did. Now, how do we fix this?”

Pepper stared at him with calculating, but also teary eyes a little while longer. Then she breathed out heavily. Her shoulder slumped and her face grew soft again.

“I know, Tony. I know you would never hurt him. But… that has been incredibly stupid. To say something like this… On a street, where anybody could have overheard you.”

“I know. It was stupid. I messed up. Now, what do we do about it?” Once Tony had thought that he could fix anything. He could fix engines or his robots, he could fix his heart with an arc reactor and he could fix his Iron Suits. He even had once dared to think that he could fix peace and protect the world. But recently more and more things seemed to fall apart. His own creation had turned against humanity and the Avenger had only managed to defeat Ultron at the cost of a whole _country_. He hadn’t managed to fix the Avengers. The Sokovia Accords were simply a mess. His own kid had to crash a plane to prevent a mad man from stealing Tony’s high-tech weapons. More and more things just seemed to fall out of Tony’s control.

“I don’t know, Tony. The news won’t let this go easily. And the video is out there. Even if we could stop the new channels from broadcasting it, it will never disappear again. You know how the internet works…”

“ _I_ could delete it. I could write a code that hacks into every computer that uploads the video and then delete it. Actually, I could just ask Friday now…” Tony tried desperately, but Pepper just glared at him disapprovingly.

“And that would be highly illegal, Tony, and also not exactly inconspicuous.”

“Nobody would be able to proof that it was me…”

“Tony! The video is not the point,” Pepper said, “It’s out there. It already got broadcasted by the biggest news channels in the country, millions of people have seen it. Even if you managed to delete every copy of the video, it wouldn’t stop the news anymore. They know about Peter and they will try to dig up every bit of information they can get on Peter and your relationship to him.”

“Okay, okay. Then we have to spin the story somehow. Make it more.. boring. Make the media loose interest in it,” Tony suggested.

Pepper’s eyes were still fixed on Tony. But she seemed to think about Tony’s suggestion. Finally she sighed.

“We can try that, Tony. But I don’t see the media losing interest in the story any time soon. It’s a story involving _Tony Stark._ They could probably publish a story on your favourite coffee brand and people would still be interested. This is a story about Tony Stark fostering a child. This story is not going away.”

Tony took a deep breath and went with his hand through his hair. He knew she was right. After Tony and Pepper had gotten engaged, it was the main topic on several talk shows for a whole week. Some cheap gossip magazines were still featuring Tony and Pepper on their cover, months after the engagement. He could only imagine at what length they would discuss Tony fostering a teen.

“Shit,” Tony cursed. Honestly, Tony had never much cared about the media. They had followed him his from the day he had been born. Tony had accepted early on that no part of his life would ever be completely private. And for the longest time Tony didn’t really care, because there had been nothing that he had felt the need to keep private. He simply had no private life. He had learned to ignore nasty comments on his looks or personality. He had laughed about crazy rumours. And on contrary to what the most people might have thought, he even didn’t care about praises. Sure, it  had been flattering to be named as one of the sexiest man alive, and yes, Tony might have saved a TIMEs article hailing him as a hero after he had saved the city, but at the end Tony knew that what the media wrote didn’t really matter. The media had always been welcome to take Tony’s private life apart and report whatever they wanted, because frankly, Tony had never cared.

 But suddenly there was Peter. _His_ kid. He didn’t need some gossip magazines discussing Peter’s life. He didn’t want some dumb talk shows talking about all the tragedies that had happened to the kid.  He didn’t want some tabloid journalist stalking Peter and eventually jeopardizing the kid’s carefully kept secret identity.

“Yeah, shit, you can say that” Pepper replied, “But the news is not what should worry us, Tony,”

Tony’s head snapped towards Pepper.

“What?”

“Tony, you’ve threatened Peter. It’s on video and the whole country is talking about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if CPS are going to be knocking on our door tomorrow,” Pepper explained.

Tony’s heart started raising. With wide eyes he stared at Pepper.

“What?” he asked for a second time.

“Tony, this looks bad. Think about it for a minute and look at the facts. I know you love Peter, but how do you think the whole thing looks to outsiders?” She paused. Tony tried to see what she meant, but some part of his brain just refused to acknowledge the severity of the situation. “Tony, you’ve skipped the process of becoming a legitimate foster father by making May sign a paper allowing you to foster Peter.”

“I didn’t make her…” Tony wanted to protest, but Pepper stopped him.

“I know you didn’t. But that’s not what the rest of the world is going to see. A woman, sick with terminal cancer, with no means to pay for her treatment, signs her nephew over to you. Her genius, orphaned nephew, that was employed by you as the youngest intern at SI ever. Then you start paying for her treatment.”

“I… That’s bullshit.” Tony yelled angrily, his heart now hammering in his chest, “That’s not what happened. It sounds like… it sounds like I bought Peter. What a load of crap.”

“I know, Tony. But nonetheless, we have to be prepared for CPS asking us some serious questions,” Pepper told him.

Tony’s mouth felt dry. It was getting harder to breath.

“Will it just be questions?” Tony’s voice was pleading. He knew the answer to his question as much as Pepper did, but he just needed her to tell him that everything was going to be alright.

“Tony,” she said, softly, sensing his distress, “It will probably be just be questions.”

“They can’t take him, can they?” He knew the answer to that question, too. Pepper’s sad eyes met his.

They could take him. They could conclude that May had signed the paper under duress or to gain some profit. They could decide that Tony had no right to foster Peter. They could take him.

Tony could suddenly hear his own blood rushing in his ears.

Tony’s mind flashed back to when he first seen the group home. He thought about the dirty, sticky floor and the crowded room with only a field bed for his kid. He thought about that bully that had pushed Peter.

Breathing suddenly got even harder. There was some pain in his chest. Tony rubbed with hand over the place where the arc reactor had once been.

He thought about how small and broken Peter had seemed, when he had finally confessed to Tony that May was sick.

Tony tried to take in a breath, but there just didn’t seem to be enough air.

Tony thought about how he had seen countless missed calls on his phone. He thought about the three messages he got after returning to New York from Europe with an unconscious Rhodey. _“Mr. Stark, can you please call me?”_

Tony remembered how he had found Peter. The kid had been unconscious, his foot bend in awkward, unnatural way. He hadn’t been responding to Tony’s pleads and with shaking hands Tony had tried to find a pulse. The ten seconds it had taken him to find Peter’s pulse have probably been the longest ten seconds of his life.

“Tony?” Pepper asked. Confused Tony looked at her. What was happening? “Tony, honey, you’re having a panic attack.”

She took his hands into hers. Only know Tony noticed that he was shaking.

“Tony, look at me. Just breath. Everything’s going to be alright,” she said.

* * *

 

It had taken them twenty minutes to calm Tony down. It wasn’t the first panic attack Pepper had had to talk him through, but it had been the first one in a long time.

Pepper was hugging Tony now. His face was nuzzled into her soft neck. The smell of her flowery perfume or maybe her shampoo was calming.

“I’m going to call your lawyers, Tony,” she said. Her hand was moving in soothing circles over his back, “Peter is a minor, there have to some limits about what the news media can report about him.”

Tony nodded, but also hugged her more tightly. He didn’t want Pepper to jump into action just now. He needed the comfort of her arms for a few more seconds.

Her hand brushed over his back a little bit longer and then wandered upwards over his neck and through his hair. Gently she laid her hand on his cheek and pulled his face towards hers.

“It’s going to be alright, Tony,” she promised him.

Tony didn’t answer anything. He just kept looking into her blue eyes, that seemed so confident, honest.

“I wish I wasn’t Tony Stark,” he finally muttered, “You know, sometimes I imagine how it would be to be ordinary.”

He paused and brushed a strand of hair out of Pepper’s face. She regarded him curiously.

“Sometimes I imagine living in a house at a lake, away from the city. I would live there with you. And Peter. His aunt, too, of course. And maybe, you know, we could have another child. A little girl. You would be such an amazing mom. And Peter would be the best big brother the world has ever seen. No reporters, no SHIELD, no Avengers, no aliens. Just us as a family.”

There were some tears in Pepper’s eyes. “I like that idea, Tony.” Her soft lips met his.

“I’m so proud of you,” she added, “You’ve grown so much since the first time I met you.”

He gave her a short kiss now.

“That’s because you gave me a reason to grow up,” Tony told her.

The next kiss was longer, more passionate. The stress Tony had felt before was almost completely gone now.

“And maybe we could have a pet,” Tony continued his fantasy after they broke up from the kiss to catch their breath. A mischievous grin was forming on his lips. “We could have a dog or talking parrot. Or wait, how about an alpaca. I’ve always wanted an alpaca.”

Pepper chuckled and let go of Tony. “I’ll go call your lawyers now.”

“What?” Tony said in mock exasperation, “You don’t want to have an alpaca?”

“Alpacas aren’t pets, Tony.”

“They can be. If it lives in our house, it’s a pet. Who’s to say what can and can’t be a pet.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “We aren’t going to have an alpaca.”

“Alpacas are my favourite animals,” Tony protested. Pepper raised an eyebrow.

“Alpacas, really?"

“Yeah, why not.”

“I would have thought your favourite animal would be something smarter. Chimpanzees. Dolphins. Or scratch that. I wouldn’t have thought that Tony Stark has a favourite animal.”

Tony shrugged his shoulders. “Of course, I have a favourite animal. It’s an alpaca.”

“How about spiders?” Pepper asked.

“Alpacas are my favourite animals right after spiders of course,” Tony informed his fiancée, determination in his voice.

“You can have a spider as a pet. A tarantula. I wouldn’t mind. They are clean, quiet, scentless,” Pepper explained.

“Nope, no spiders except for Peter in the house. Peter would just try to free the spider, get bitten again and gain more spidery abilities,” Tony argued.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Pepper objected.

Then she pulled Tony back into reality, “Tony, we need to talk to your lawyers now. I’m going to call them and you’re going to talk to Peter. This must be very stressful for him, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Pepper and Tony went back to the living room. Peter was sitting on the edge of the couch, the same way he had at the beginning of the evening, when they had watched Star Wars. But now there was a news channel turned on. They were playing the video agaZin, in which Tony and Peter were fighting.

Pepper gave Tony a nod. She moved to the dining table, while Tony slowly approached Peter.

Only now, Peter seemed to notice Tony. He turned around for a second, looked at Tony and then fixed his gaze on the TV screen again.

“They showed my face. Can they do that?” Peter asked Tony, “I mean it must be illegal to show the face of a minor. And they said my first name and my school, everyone will figure out that it’s me.”

“It’s not illegal,” Tony told Peter, “But Pepper is talking to our lawyers now. We will see what we can do.”

“They called me an orphan. I’m not an orphan. May is still alive,” Peter said, “And they say she’s dying. She’s not. She looked so well when we visited her today.”

Tony gulped. He didn’t tell Peter, that, yes, in fact, he was an orphan. And he also didn’t tell the child that his aunt was still dying despite looking better. They hadn’t found a way to cure her cancer.

“Don’t listen to the media,” Tony said to the teen instead, “They will dramatize anything to get a good story.”

“They even knew my IQ. Even I didn’t know my IQ. May and Ben hadn’t want to tell me, after the school psychologist made me take an IQ test. The media must be lying, right? They can’t know my IQ.”

Tony gritted his teeth at this new bit of information. The reporters had already started digging deep into Peter’s background.

“What did they say your IQ was?” Tony wanted to know.

“191. But that’s ridiculous. I’m smart, but not _that_ smart.”

“191, that’s about right,” Tony muttered. He buried his hands in his pockets, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. Peter turned to Tony with wide eyes. “191 is what you scored, when you took an IQ test at age eleven,” Tony explained.

“How do you know that?” Peter asked suspiciously.

“I’ve done my research. What do you think?”

Peter glared at him for a second and then turned back to the TV. They were discussing Tony now and the billionaire’s possible intentions. The journalists seemed to agree that Tony Stark was looking for an heir.

“Maybe we should turn that off,” Tony suggested, “Friday, can you please turn off…”

“No,” Peter interrupted angrily, “They are talking about me. I want to hear it.”

“Peter, it’s better to just ignore them. Pepper will talk to our lawyers and they will fix this. You should go to sleep,” Tony argued, but Peter just frowned.

“Sleep? Are you serious? I’m on the _news_ , Mr. Stark. I can’t go to sleep now,” Peter said back. With a sigh Tony sat down next to Peter.

“Most of what they say is crap, Peter. You’ve been countless times on the news as Spider-Man. You know how this works,” Tony tried, but without success.

“This is different. Everybody will know it’s me. My whole school. Every student. Every teacher.”

Tony went with a hand through his hair, when he suddenly remembered something. “Your school hearing is tomorrow,” he informed Peter.

“What? No! Not tomorrow, can’t we move it?”

“We can’t. You need to go back to school”, Tony told the teen firmly.

“I’m not going back to school”, Peter said in protest, “Not now. _Everybody_ will be talking about me.”

“Kid, I know it’s hard. I grew up with the attention of the media always on me. But you have to ignore them and just continue your life,” Tony tried to explain to Peter. He tried to put a comforting hand on the teen’s shoulder, but Peter just flinched away and stood up.

“Yeah, you grew up with the attention of the media, because you were a genius child of a billionaire and an American hero. I on the other hand am a pity show. Listen to what they are saying. They say I’m a poor orphan with a dying aunt, who couldn’t provide for me. They say that we were homeless. And you are the hero who’s saving me.” Peter’s face was red.

“Kid… That’s not exactly what they are saying. They think I’m extorting you,” Tony muttered.

“Yeah, that makes it better. I’m the poor orphan boy that let’s himself be extorted.”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Tony apologized. He hadn’t thought that an apology would have an effect on Peter, but it did. The teen’s angry frown softened and at once tears flowing out of the kid’s eyes.

“I don’t want this, Mr. Stark.”

“Me neither,” Tony agreed. He stood up and pulled the teen in a hug. This time Peter didn’t flinch away but melted into Tony’s hug. He put his forehead on the shoulder of the man.

“I’m going to fix this, kiddo,” he promised to the boy.

After a while the teen’s flow of tears ebbed. Meanwhile Friday had turned off the TV. When the teen had become completely still, Tony let go of the hug, but Peter was still clenching against him.

“Do you think, you can sleep now?” Tony asked softly. Tony could feel Peter nodding against him.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed. But before you go to sleep, I have an important question for you.”

Peter let go of the hug too and looked at Tony. His expression was turning anxious.

“Do you think we should get an alpaca?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I should be doing something else. I have a crazy workload and only 10 days left to one huge deadline. But here I am. Writing 3500 words of Tony&Peter&Pepper angst/fluff.  
> Yeah, I probably have a bright future ahead of me.
> 
> But I hope you enjoyed this at least! Thank you for all the Kudos, Follows and reviews. I guess I lost a few regulars reviewers, when I took a break for one month, but I also gained a few new readers/reviewers, which makes me very happy. The next chapter will probably be after my deadline at the end of the month.


	32. Chapter 32

“Peter, get ready, we’re leaving in half an hour,” Mr. Stark told him as he peaked through the door of his room. It was Monday afternoon and they had to go to Peter’s disciplinary hearing, which would decide if Peter could stay in Midtown and probably also decide about the fate of his scholarship.  It had been quiet a restless morning. Not only had Peter watched the news reporting on him for the whole morning, he was also anxious about the hearing. It was going to be so awkward.

Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts had both stayed at home with him, even though they had a presentation scheduled for the release of the new StarkPhone. A group of lawyers had spent the morning at their apartment, discussing things with the two adults. Peter wanted to complain and tell Mr. Stark that Peter should be allowed to listen to the conversation, but when Peter had seen dark circles under Mr. Stark eyes, he had wordlessly complied.

“Put on the white shirt, we bought you, and one of those dark jeans?” Mr. Stark told him. The man himself was dressed in a three-piece suit in navy blue, which looked a bit too formal and definitely too fancy for a disciplinary hearing in a high school. But Mr. Stark was, well, Tony Stark. He could wear whatever he wanted.

Mr. Stark left Peter alone again and the teenager opened his wardrobe. He had never owned so many clothes before and he was convinced that he would never have a chance to wear all of them before he would eventually grow out of them (at least he hoped that he still had one growth spurt awaiting him).

He pulled out a white shirt Mr. Stark had convinced him to buy. The white shirt probably needed to be ironed, but Peter didn’t even now, if Mr. Stark owned an iron. He must own one, since Mr. Stark’s clothes were usually perfect, but he guessed they didn’t have time for him to iron his shirt.

Peter then went to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth. He used some mouth wash that was in the bathroom, even though he had never used it before. He just felt that there had to be something more he could do before he would have to face his teachers. How should he explain that everything was just a mistake? That he had never intended to hurt anybody? How should he explain why he had skipped school, when he didn’t even really understood that himself?

Peter wasn’t happy as he looked at himself on the mirror. His skin was pale, and he was admittedly a little bit too thin. He tried to comb through his hair, but the only thing he achieved was tear out some hairs. Other than that, his hair stayed the unruly mess it was.

What would his teachers think? Peter, who hadn’t even been able to pay for a field trip, suddenly appearing with Tony Stark as his guardian. Would they think that he was some kind of… gold digger? Or somebody just seeking attention?

They wouldn’t kick him out of school, would they? And his scholarship, would he keep it? Mr. Stark certainly could and would pay his tuition fee, but Peter really didn’t like the idea of having to rely on Mr. Stark on one more thing.

Peter must have spent quite some time in the bathroom, because suddenly Mr. Stark was knocking on the bathroom door.

“You ready?” The man asked.

“Yeah, in a sec.” Peter said back.

“Five more minutes, then we’re leaving,” Mr. Stark said and left again.

Again, Peter tried to somehow fix his hair. It just didn’t look nice. It was too curly and too long. Maybe he should have washed it in the morning.

It hadn’t felt like five minutes had passed, when Mr. Stark was standing behind the closed bathroom door again.

“Peter, we should really leave.” The man insisted, “You know how the traffic is.”

“I…” Peter opened the bathroom door to see the man. “I just need a minute. My hair is weird.”

Mr. Stark furrowed his brows a bit. “Your hair is weird?”

“Yeah,” Peter said as he continued to somehow stop his hair from standing out in all direction.

“It looks like it always does,” Mr. Stark said

“It’s worse today,” Peter explained.

“It’s not. But I can make you an appointment at the hairdresser after the hearing, if you want. But we should really go now.”

“I should have washed my hair. Maybe I should wash it now. You go ahead, I can swing to the school and catch up.”

Mr. Stark breathed out in annoyance. “Your hair is fine. You’re not going to wash it now and you will certainly not ‘swing’ to your school hearing. Let’s go. Now, Peter.”

Mr. Stark irritation was written all over his face. It almost made Peter listen to the man.

“Please, Mr. Stark,” Peter begged, “I just need like fifteen more minutes. Twenty tops.”

The man sighed as he pinched his bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes for a second, probably to control his anger.

“Alright, I will be back in sec. Don’t wash your hair though,” Mr. Stark declared. Then he left.

Half a minute later he returned with a tube of styling gel. Peter had already tried to use it once, but it hadn’t really worked for him.

“I don’t know, Mr. Stark,” Peter muttered eyeing the hair gel suspiciously, “I don’t really know how to use it.”

“Yeah, well. I do. You trust me right?” The man asked. Peter nodded hesitantly.

He tilted Peter’s face gently so that the teenager was facing him. The man seemed to study him for a second, just like a hairdresser would before starting their work. Then man put some of the gel on his fingers and went with a few seemingly practiced movements through his hair.

When he was done, Mr. Stark smiled at him.

“There you go, handsome.”

He turned Peter towards the mirror. Stunned Peter looked at his hair. It wasn’t messy at all anymore, or at least not the untidy kind of messy.

“How do you know how to do that?” Peter wondered. He had the urge to touch his hair, but he didn’t dare to.

“My hair was curlier when I was younger too. Actually, I had hair pretty similar to yours,” Mr. Stark explained, “A hairstylist showed me how to do my hair before a photo shooting.”

Peter continued looking at his hair in the mirror. He suddenly liked it more. Mr. Stark had had similar hair like him.

“Now let’s go, Spider-Boy.”

“But… but my shirt is wrinkled,” Peter protested now.

Again, Mr. Stark sighed.

“Your shirt is fine. It’s appropriately wrinkled for a teenager.”

“But…”

Before Peter could finish his sentence, Mr. Stark put a hand on the teen’s cheek, a thump stroked his cheekbone soothingly.

“You’re nervous,” his mentor said, “I get that, kid. But you don’t have to be.”

“What if I get that kicked out of school?” Peter questioned barely audible.

“Then we will find you another school. This is New York. They have more then one school in the city, you know? Even several school’s for gifted kids.”

“I… I’m not gifted.”

Mr. Stark laughed shortly. “Yeah, right.”

“I… I don’t want to go to another school,” Peter argued back.

“I doubt they will kick you out, Peter,” Mr. Stark told him, “But if they do, we will find you an alternative. I’m sure your friend Teddy wouldn’t mind switching schools, too. Especially if I offer to pay the tuition fees for him, too.”

“I wouldn’t ask something like that from Ned, Mr. Stark. Switching schools is a major thing.”

“The kid adores you, Pete. He would probably follow you anywhere. But it will not come to that. I’m with you.”

 

* * *

 

“Shit,” Mr. Stark cursed, when he stopped the car in front of Peter’s school. There were no students in front of the school, since most classes have already ended. But instead there was a crowd of journalists standing on the front steps to Peter’s school. They immediately approached the car.

“Shit,“ Mr. Stark cursed again. Peter’s eyes widened, when the car was suddenly surrounded by journalists.  If it wasn’t so scary, it would feel surreal. Peter had only seen so many reporters at once on the TV. He knew that Mr. Stark was famous, but those reporters were not only interested in the billionaire. They were here because of Peter.

“How do they know about my school hearing?” Peter asked, his voice very low.

“Probably one of your teachers couldn’t keep their mouth shut,” Mr. Stark told him, “I should have asked Happy to drive us. He would have been handy right now.”

Some journalist tapped on the car window next to Peter. Peter flinched away, when he saw somebody pointing a camera at him and shooting a picture.

Mr. Stark closed his eyes for a second, collecting himself. Then he reached the glove compartment and pulled out some sunglasses and a cap. Peter knew that Mr. Stark sometimes used them sometimes to not immediately get recognized in the public.

“Alright, kid,” he started explaining and put the items on Peter’s lap, “put them on. They don’t need more pictures of your face. If they ask you something, just ignore them. You aren’t obliged to answer anything. Just keep cool, alright? I will get out if the car first and you will wait until I’m at your side. Got that?”

Peter hesitantly nodded and looked at the cap in his hands. It would ruin his hair again, but that didn’t seem relevant anymore.

“We go straight to the entrance. They aren’t allowed to enter the school. It will be over quickly. I’m dealing with this kind of stuff all the time; I know how to handle this kind of situation.”

“Yeah, it’s fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter answered and put on the cap and the sunglasses.

Mr. Stark cracked a smile before leaving the car. “It’s going to be alright, kiddo.”

As soon as Mr. Stark opened the car, various reports started ask questioned. They barely gave Mr. Stark enough space to exit the car and close it behind him. Peter watched as Mr. Stark made his way through the crowd, trying not to engage with the reporters.

Then the man reached Peter’s door and opened it for Peter. It was kind of weird to have his car door opened by one of the most powerful men on earth, but it felt incredibly good to have Mr. Stark close and not to have to face the mob of journalists on his own.

Mr. Stark wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders and lead him through the crowd almost like Peter would imagine a bodyguard would do it.

 The reporters would exactly touch him, but they still came awfully close with their cameras and Peter was suddenly incredibly glad for the tinned sunglasses, his heightened senses wouldn’t go well with the flashlight of cameras. The reporters bombarded them with questions. But they were so many that even if Peter wanted, he wouldn’t manage to answer anything.

“Mr. Stark, are you planning on adopting Peter?”

“How is it to live with Iron Man?”

“Is he going to be heir to Stark Industries?”

“Peter, do you feel threatened by Tony Stark?”

“Stark, how did you find Peter?”

“What is the disciplinary hearing about?”

“Why isn’t Pepper Potts his foster parent as well?”

Peter was exhausted, when they finally reached the door. His ears were ringing painfully, and he would have probably stumbled a few times, if it hadn’t been for Mr. Stark strong grip around his shoulders. The school janitor opened the door to the school for them and closed it quickly, pushing some reporters back who tried to peak into the school.

“Everything alright, Parker?” The school janitor Neil was standing in front of Peter glancing at the teenager with worry. Neil was an older man, and Peter had always wondered how he still managed to do all the physical work required of him.

“I… yeah…” Peter mumbled and rubbed his ears, trying to get rid of the ringing. Sometimes enhanced senses sucked.

“Do you have some water or something? Something with sugar?” Mr. Stark asked and Peter realized only after a few seconds that Mr. Stark was talking to the janitor and not to Peter. Mr. Stark looked worried as well. “You’re pale, kiddo,” he said softly, when he saw Peter looking at him confused.

“I…” Peter continued to rub his ears, “You know how, uh, sensitive my ears are. I will be fine in a minute.”

“I have some lemonade, if you want,” the janitor offered and took a bottle out of a bag he was carrying, “Margret from the cafeteria always gives me a bottle for free and I help her rearranging the kitchen every other week. It’s our little tradition, but I haven’t had the heart yet to tell her that my doctor doesn’t allow me lemonade anymore. Apparently, my sugar is not too good,” the janitor explained.

Peter would have refused the offer, but Mr. Stark was quicker than him. He had already taken the bottle, opened it and held it in front of Peter’s face. Peter had no choice but to take a few gulps.

“I’m alright, Mr. Stark. And thank you, Neil.”

The janitor smiled at him, “No worries, kid.”

Then turned to Mr. Stark. It was obvious that the old janitor was not star-struck by billlionair, “Peter is good kid, take good care of him, Stark.”

 

* * *

 

 

The disciplinary hearing wasn’t exactly how Peter would have imagined it to be.

It was held in a conference room. Peter had never been inside since it was usually only used for official school business, not for classes. Peter would have thought that there would only be a few people for his disciplinary hearing, the principal and maybe a few teachers. Instead there were ten people in the room and Peter was certain that some of them weren’t even teachers. While Peter felt his heart suddenly plummet, Mr. Stark didn’t seem impressed at all.

There was a lot of exciting conversations going on in the room, but when the people noticed Peter and Mr. Stark entering, the room fell silent.

Quickly, principal Morita approached the two of them. “Mr. Stark, how nice to see you again. And you, too, of course Peter.” Another man appeared next to Mr. Harrington. He wasn’t a teacher, Peter knew that, but from the way he carried himself Peter could see that the man thought that he was very important.

“My name is Harrison, I’m the superintendent. I’m managing the school’s in this district.” Peter had never seen the man before, and the teenager was certain that the man usually didn’t attend disciplinary hearings. Peter was also certain that most of the people in the room were more interested in meeting Mr. Stark instead of Peter’s hearing.

But what surprised Peter most was, how… civilized Mr. Stark was. Just now he realized that Peter had never witnessed Mr. Stark being polite and calm. Usually the man would make jokes, be snarky, and just openly rude. Peter guessed that Mr. Stark was putting in some serious effort here.

Most other people in the room were teachers and Peter was glad of seeing Mrs. Warren and Mr. Harrington between the other teaching staff. But what made Peter uneasy was, when he saw Mrs. Thompson, Flash’s mom, sitting at the conference table. Apparently, she was the parent representative of Midtown. She eyed him coldly, making Peter shudder.

“Come on, Pete,” Mr. Stark whispered to him, “Sit down.”

Confused Peter looked around him and noticed that everybody was already sitting at the table. Only he was still standing, most teachers were looking strangely at him. The teenager turned red and clumsily got into the chair next to Mr. Stark.

 

* * *

 

“Obviously, it was your son, who started the fight,” Mr. Stark shouted at Mrs. Thompson. The two adults were standing now, while Peter just tried to disappear in his chair. The discussion had started out calmly. Peter had started his story by explaining that he had been scared of going to school, because he had feared his classmate’s reaction and he explained that he had never intended to hurt Ned. There had been a lot of understanding nods and encouraging smiles. But when he started to talk about the incident with flash, Mrs. Thompson had suddenly started accusing him of being a manipulator and a bully. Mr. Stark, who had kept calm till now, began to interfere.

“Oh, your _foster_ son just gets away with everything. He was the one, who hit my _son_ first. He gave him a concussion,” the woman argued back.

Mr. Morita was standing now, too, “Please, Mr. Stark, Rose, can we all please calm down.”

“Roger, I don’t see, why you keep that child getting away with everything,” Mrs. Thompson said to the principal “Clearly, he is violent and undisciplined, and I don’t see, why we paying parents should tolerate such a child at our school.”

“Peter is not violent,” Mr. Stark hissed back.

“Tell that to my son and Ned Leeds. Clearly, Mr. Stark, you don’t know the boy. He looks great on a paper, certainly, high IQ and good grades, but he is lazy and a troublemaker. Just this year he vanished in the middle of a school trip, leaving his decathlon team hanging on the nationals. That was before his aunt got sick.”

“And Peter had detention and he learned his lesson,” Mr. Stark said back. Peter wondered for a second how Mr. Stark knew that he had detention after the incident in Washington, but then again, it was Mr. Stark. The man probably knew everything about him by now.

“Except he didn’t,” Mrs. Thompsons said, “He was skipping school again, wasn’t he? For a whole week?”

“Peter has just explained, why he had skipped school,” Mr. Stark told her, “And I think we can all agree that it wasn’t about him being lazy or undisciplined. The kid had some rough couple of months…”

Mrs. Thompson scowled, “There is always _something_ with that kid. He just keeps getting away with things no other kid would get away with, because he just keeps playing the pity card.”

Some teachers shifted uncomfortable in their chair, cringing at Mrs. Thompsons’ harsh words.

Mrs. Warren, who was also sitting next to Peter was sitting up now, too.

“Maybe we should all take a break,” the physics teacher offered.

But Mr. Stark just kept arguing against Mrs. Thompson. “You’re unbelievable,” he said and then looked to the other people in the room, “She is unbelievable.”

“How can you say something in front of him?” Mr. Stark continued, “The kid had been through more things than most of you, and he is still fighting. He is dealing with everything better than anybody would in this room could. He isn’t only a smart kid, but also an incredibly good one.” Mr. Stark’s eyes turned towards Peter and went soft, “He deserves to go to this school.”

Before Mrs. Thompson could say something back, Mrs. Warren tried to interfere again, “I think Mrs. Thompson this discussion is going nowhere. You and Mr. Stark are both concerned parents, but maybe we should also let Peter’s classmates get a chance to voice their opinion.”

Surprised Peter looked at Mrs. Warren. _What?_ Mrs. Warren looked back at Peter and smiled at him. Then she went to the door, opened it and talked to somebody in the hallway.

Suddenly, the whole room filled with ten to fifteen of Peter’s classmates. They all greeted Peter with a smile and waving their hands at him cheerfully, even MJ nodded towards him giving him a crooked, short smile

When, Peter and Ned’s eyes met, Peter formed a silent _“What’s going on?”_ with his lips. But Ned just shrugged his shoulders and smiled like the other students, just a little bit more apologetically.

“So, here are Peter’s classmates, who wanted to say a few things, too, about Peter before we discuss any consequences of Peter’s… behaviour.,” Mrs. Warren said.

“That’s highly unusual,” the superintendent interfered, but Mrs. Warren seemed to be prepared against any protests.

“Yes, it is unusual, but there is nothing in the school rules against students speaking on the behalf of their classmate during a disciplinary meeting.

The superintendent grunted something, but then agreed with a nod.

“MJ,” Mrs. Warren said, “Why don’t you begin?”

“Yes,” MJ agreed and stepped in front of the group. She seemed unusually nervous for a second, fumbling with her hands in front of her. Then she looked at Peter intensively and the teenager could feel his face getting hot.

“So… Peter has done some mistakes,” she started. “He has hit Eugene and Ned, skipped school, run out of class several times, ditched us at the decathlon competition…” Her tone was neutral, very matter-of-factly. Peter gulped.

“MJ, that’s not what we discussed…” Peter could hear Ned whisper to MJ, but MJ kept going on.

“But before we judge him prematurely,” she continued, “we gathered a few character witnesses to attest to Peter’s personality.”

Ned, who was next to MJ calmed down again.

“Tyler Corbyn is out first character witness,” MJ pointed at the student, who stiffened nervously, “Tyler, please tell us about Peter.”

Peter frowned a bit, not really understanding, what his classmates were doing. Character witnesses? Had all of his classmates stayed after school to help him in his disciplinary hearing? It made Peter feel more nervous than flattered.

 Mr. Stark was frowning, too. He leaned closer to Peter and asked.

“What is this all about, kid?” The man wanted to know. Peter just shrugged, he had as much of a clue as  the billionair.

“So, uh,” Tyler said, obviously uncomfortable to speak in front of a crowd, “So, yeah. Uh, I’m Tyler and I’m going to the same class as Peter for two years. He’s kind of, you know, shy and in general I don’t know a lot about him except that he’s smart, because he can’t hide that, but I really don’t know Peter well.”

There was an awkward pause, before he continued. “But,” Tyler told them, “last year I was sick with pneumonia and I missed one month of school. I was really good at maths before, but then suddenly I just couldn’t catch up and it was super frustrating. Uh, Peter, even though we don’t know each other well, just offered to help me out. For three weeks we met like twice a week in the library and he helped catch up. My next exam in maths was really good again.” Tyler ended his story and turned red as a tomato. He quickly took a few steps back again, seemingly trying to blend in with the other students again.

“Thanks, Tyler,” MJ said and one could see the teenager relaxing again, when the attention of the people moved back to MJ, “Josh Scarino wants to tell his story next.”

Josh was a gangly kid with some unruly hair. He scratched the back of his head before starting to speak. He seemed a little bit less nervous than Tyler.

“I don’t know Peter well, too,” Josh explained, “But I know that he’s a good guy. He’s the smartest kid in our class, but he’s not arrogant or something. He’s actually pretty cool. I wanted to tell you the story, about Peter shared his lunch with me for like three days. I, uh, had lost the money my mom gave me for lunch that week. I was too embarrassed to ask her for more money and I skipped lunch for like two days. I tried to play it cool and told everybody that I just wasn’t hungry, but Peter was the only one who kind of… cared? So, on the third day, he just came over to me and gave me half of his lunch. He didn’t ask any questions or something and he didn’t make a big deal out of it. He even shared on pizza day. Nobody shares on pizza day. So, yeah, Peter is cool.”

Peter blushed a bit. He had almost forgotten about how he had helped Tyler and Josh. Honestly, Peter didn’t think it was a big deal, but his classmates made it sound like he was some kind of hero.

“Guys,” Peter wanted to object, but Mr. Stark squeezed Peter’s shoulder to get the teen’s attention and then shook his head.

“Just enjoy the show, kiddo,” the man whispered smilingly.

“But…”

“So what?” It was Flash’s mother who was objecting again, “Parker has shared his lunch for three days and helped a classmate with his homework. I don’t see why this is relevant for what the boy has done recently…”

“The kids aren’t done yet,” Mrs. Warren said back, her frustration with Mrs. Thompson was obvious.

“Next one is Betty,” MJ presented. The blond girl moved next to MJ. She gave the audience a charming smile.

“So, I know Peter a while longer than most people. We went to elementary school together. And that’s when my story takes place.” She paused for a second to smile at Peter, “I was eleven and my parents have just gotten divorced. My father was supposed to pick me up from school, but he got stuck at work. So, he called me and told me that I could either wait two hours at the school or that I could take the metro on my own. He didn’t want to call my mom to pick me up, because he feared that she would just take me home with her and that he would lose his weekend with me. I mean, I knew how to take the metro and all, I had done it a few times with my dad already, but I was just so… scared. I have never done it before on my _own_. And I didn’t want to stay at the school for two more hours. I was standing in front of the school and I was crying. Everybody else had already been picked up by their parents. Except Peter was still there. I guess he stayed at the school longer for something. He asked me what was wrong and then he offered to walk me home. So, we took the metro together and he walked me all the way to my front door. I don’t know. Back then I didn’t really think about it, but now I realize that from my place to his must have taken him at least another forty minutes. It must have gotten dark before he came home. And I mean, he was only eleven or ten, too. So, yeah. Thanks, Peter.”

Peter felt his head grow even hotter. “I, uh, it was really no trouble at all, Betty.”

Actually, Betty didn’t even know the whole story. Peter hadn’t enough money to take the metro back and he realized too late that he didn’t know the way back home by foot. It had taken him almost four hours to find his way home. He also hadn’t had a phone back then and he had no way to tell May and Ben that he was lost in the city. Both Ben and May had been scared to death, when they had returned from work and Peter hadn’t come back from school yet. He had never seen Ben and May so angry. That day he had gotten his first and only spanking ever. But he had also gotten a phone and a monthly metro card the next day. And Ben had told him as well, how proud he was for Peter helping his classmate.

“So, you’ve just heard three stories about Peter. He’s a good guy and he had helped all of us at some point. He didn’t want to hurt Ned, that was an accident and…”

“Just because he had done some nice things that doesn’t mean that he can get away with everything. Fact is, he has hurt my son,” Mrs. Thompson interfered again.

“Actually, it’s not that simple, mom,” Flash suddenly spoke up. He must have been standing somewhere in the back, before Peter just noticed his bully now.

“I started the fight,” Flash admitted. He avoided looking anybody into their eyes, but instead just looked at his feet. “I knocked over his food and then I made fun for him having no money for food. I was… I was really mean.”

“Yes, Eugene, but _he_ hit you first,” his mother argued.

“But I deserved it,” Flash said, “I deserved it, mom. I made fun of him for not having money for food and…” he looked apologetically at Peter, “And it was kind of truth. I was mean and he didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry, Peter.”

Peter’s throat felt tight. He had never in his life expected an apology from Flash. Peter had been tormented by the boy for years and some part couldn’t believe that Flash has apologized. But the other teen looked genuine, his eyes slightly watery, his inner struggle was clearly written on his face.

“I’m sorry, too, Flash. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

Flash reached out his hand and Peter shook it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this was kind of an uneventful chapter, especially for such a long one. But yeah, well, take a deep breath, folks. There are still some angsty chapters to come.


	33. Chapter 33

“So, Peter, we came to a verdict,” principal Morita said smilingly. After the children had told their stories, the committee discussing Peter’s future on the school had taken a fifteen minutes recesses to discuss the teen’s fate. Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulder. He could feel that the kid was tense, even though Tony doubted that he would still get kicked out of school after how his classmates had stepped up to help him.

“We understand that your situation is difficult,” Morita explained, “You’ve done some mistakes, but you clearly are not only one of out smartest students, but you’ve shown compassion and willingness to help.  But of course, your behaviour in the past few months must have some consequences. We came to the decision that for each hour you have skipped school, you will help Mrs. Warren two hours with her new tutoring program.  That are about seventy hours in total and you have time until the end of the year to complete those hours.”

Tony frowned a bit, thinking that seventy hours were a bit much, considering that the kid probably also had to catch up on his own schoolwork and after school activities. Not to mention that at some point Peter would certainly be Spider-manning again. But just as Tony wanted to protest, he noticed how Peter’s shoulders relaxed.

“What’s Mrs. Warren new tutoring program?” Peter wanted to know. The black woman gave Peter a big, genuine smile.

“I started a tutoring program, where students from our school go help students at other schools. I’ve discussed it already with the superintended,” the woman explained.

“Oh, really?” Peter asked. Tony thought that it was endearing how Peter was practically beaming. “That’s great! Of course, I will help. I mean, I guess, I also have to help, but I still like to help,” the kid stuttered excitedly, “I, uh, actually know a kid at another school, who would like some tutoring. His name is Trevor Allen and he’s twelve. We shared a room in the … group home. Can I tutor him? His school is in Queens, but I don’t know if his school is part of your program.”

Mrs. Warren breathed out a laugh, “I’m sure we can arrange for you to tutor him, Peter, if he wants help. And if any of you,” Mrs. Warren turned to the rest of the class, “wants to help out in the tutoring program as well, you are all very welcome to sign up.”

To everybody’s surprise that kid Flash was the first to raise his hand. “I would like to help,” he said.

“Me, too,” MJ said, that girl who Tony thought was obviously Peter’s crush. Ned’s hand followed next and quickly all the children agreed to help Mrs. Warren’s tutoring program.

Mrs. Warren seemed to be a strong, grounded woman, but in that moment, she had to brush a tear away.

 

 

* * *

 

After they have left the conference room, Peter’s classmates hugged the teen, clapped him on his shoulder and ruffled his hair. It was heart-warming to watch and Peter deserved any hug and any encouraging word he could get.

 Surprisingly they all kept away from Tony. The Avenger guessed that they must have discussed beforehand not to make a big deal out of Iron Man being Peter’s new guardian.

Happy arrived shortly after the end of the disciplinary hearing. He approached Tony but looked at all the kid hugging Peter in confusion.

“How… how did it go?” The man wanted to know.

Tony grinned, “Great. I could have this kind of disciplinary hearing any time again.”

Happy raised an eyebrow at him.

“Who are all those kids?” he asked next.

“Peter’s classmates. Did you know that my kid is the best kid ever?”

Happy laughed at that. “Yeah, I know. But we should go now. A team of SI security is keeping the reporters at bay.”

“Hm,” Tony said thoughtfully as he looked at the classmates, “Call four more large cabs, will you?”

Then Tony addressed the children, who turned to him with wide, excited eyes, “How about we all have some pizzas? Happy here will call you some cabs and we will all go home to our apartment and eat? Call you parents for permission first of course. And tell them I will get you a cab back home as well.”

 

* * *

 

At the end of the day Tony sat down on the coach and took a deep breath. Peter has already gone to sleep and Pepper was still at her office for a few more hours.

As bad as the day has started after a sleepless night and an incredible exhausting meeting with his lawyers, it had turned out to be a great day.

The disciplinary hearing had gone very well, and Tony was eternally grateful to Peter’s classmates. Tony was certain that Peter wouldn’t think about skipping school anymore and that some of the kid’s teenage angst was gone.  Most of the classmates had stayed for about three hours at the apartment. Tony had bought two dozens pizza and then showed the kids his lab and Iron Man suits. Afterwards the kids started discussing how Peter should decorate his room and ignoring Peter’s protests Tony had ordered a few things the classmates had suggested.

It was adorable to watch, how Peter was obviously overwhelmed and embarrassed by all the attention, but Tony could also see how it seemed to build up Peter’s confidence. He had been standing a bit taller at the end of the day and some of anxiousness on the teen’s face had disappeared.

Tony was happy. He probably should have gone to sleep with that feeling.

But he just had to turn on the TV.

 _“I’m just saying, even if Tony Stark is fostering the teenager legitimately, I don’t think he’s capable of taking care of a child,”_ a woman said on the TV. It was a talk show and a few guests were sitting on a few coaches arranged in a circle. Tony didn’t know the show, nor the people talking, but today’s topic was obviously Tony Stark.

“ _I mean Tony Stark is famous for his drinking problem and excessive partying. Right now, he seems alright, but what if he has a relapse?”_

 _“Exactly,”_ another woman agreed _, “Stark is under a lot of pressure as Iron Man. He most likely suffers from PTSD and you can’t tell me that the Avenger’s break-op hasn’t impacted him emotionally. It’s not a question of if but when he will relapse.”_

 _“I mean, are we really trusting a man, who pissed himself in front of his guests once on his birthda,y with a child?”_ the first woman continued to argue. That had been years ago, Tony thought defensively. Admittedly it hadn’t been his finest hour, but to his excuse Tony had thought that he was dying.

 _“Fact is also, that Tony Stark has many enemies.,”_ this time it was a man talking, _“How selfish must one be to drag a child into the mess that is Tony Stark’s life? The man is targeted from all sides and some of his enemies are just lunatic murderers. How is he planning on protecting Peter?”_

Tony wasn’t selfish. He wasn’t. He was protecting Peter. The kid was putting himself in danger before he had met Tony. He wasn’t selfish. Right?

 _“I mean a life with Tony Stark as a foster father certainly means a life under 24 hours protection,”_ one of the women agreed, _“I would bet that the president’s children would be less targeted than any child of Tony Stark.”_

Well, that might be partly true, but Peter knew that it would come to that, didn’t he? Of course, Peter would need bodyguards now, but that wasn’t really a big deal, was it? Tony thought about the reporters earlier today and how it had freaked out the kid. He took a deep breath. Peter could deal with that. The kid was strong.

 _“Well, the president’s children are less likely to be targeted by aliens at least,”_ a fourth man huffed, _“Can you imagine what all of this does to a child? First you lose_ all _of your guardians, parents, aunt and uncle, and then you get adopted by man, who puts your whole life under threat? Car accidents, robbers and cancer aside, the kid now also has to fear aliens? Men in armoured suits? Tony Stark certainly didn’t think that through.”_

 _“Oh, I’m certain Stark has thought it through,”_ another woman hissed, “ _I think he just doesn’t care. He found a teenager that is matches his intellect and maybe sees himself in the kid. He’s looking for an heir, somebody he can show off. Let’s not forget that Tony Stark has shown extremely narcissistic behaviour in the past. He won’t be capable of empathizing with a teenager or any other person for that matter. If there is any love in the relationship than it is a love for himself.”_

Then suddenly the TV screen got turned off. Tony turned around expecting Pepper to be back, there was nobody.

“You should go to sleep, boss,” the artificial voice of FRIDAY told him.

“Turn the TV back on,” Tony grumbled.

“No.”

“Turn the TV on. Now,” Tony said again more threateningly.

“No.” When the hell did his AI grow so defiant?

“If you don’t turn on the TV in five seconds, I will reboot you.”

“You should go to sleep, boss,” the AI repeated again, surprisingly softly, “You should listen to your own advice and ignore the media.”

“I…” Tony wanted to protest but then gave in. “Yeah, alright. But the only reason I’m not rebooting you is that I’m too tired to do it right now.”

“Good night, boss.” Tony could swear that he could hear a smile in her voice.

Tony sighed and got up from the couch. “Good night, Fri.”

He shortly considered going to the lab, but honestly Tony was too exhausted. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but for once he also didn’t want to be in the lab alone with his thoughts. He just hoped that Pepper would get home soon.

But as passed Peter’s bedroom, he halted. “Is Pete asleep, Fri?”

“Yes, he’s sleeping.”

Tony should probably just go on to his own bedroom, but he suddenly had the urge to check up on the boy.

 _You’re putting him in danger, Tony,_ an inner voice told him.

He told Friday to dim the light in the hallway and slowly opened the door to Pete’s bedroom. The kid was deep asleep. _You should have kept away from, Tony. You’re just putting him in danger._

Tony walked closer to Peter’s bed. Apparently, the kid had been tossing around a lot because his blanket was half on the floor. Carefully Tony reached for it and pulled it over the kid’s shoulder again.

_You’re just selfish._

God, but he loved that kid so much. He didn’t even understand why. He didn’t even know him for too long. It hadn’t even been a year since he first met Peter. Tony sat down at the edge of the bed.

_What if you aren’t better than your father? What if you’re going to hurt Peter?_

Tony thought about all the stories his classmates had told about Peter. Then he thought about what the news reporters were saying about him. Tony didn’t deserve Peter. And Peter certainly deserved better than Tony.

The man could feel tears filling his eyes. Peter was asleep, but still Tony was thankful for the darkness. Nobody would be able to see his tears.

Tony put his face in hands. His head hurt a little bit, probably because he hadn’t slept.

He was going to mess this up. He was going to mess Peter up.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter suddenly asked. His voice was tiny and scratchy, the kid was obviously still half asleep, “What are you doing here?”

Yes, what was Tony doing here? Who was he to foster such an amazing kid like Peter? Not only fostering, but Tony had seriously been considering adopting the kid, if his aunt didn’t survive the cancer. But what right did he have over Peter? He wasn’t related to the boy. He wasn’t great at taking care of himself and he certainly wasn’t capable of taking care of a traumatized, enhanced, genius teen. And yes, the woman on the TV had been right. It was just a matter of time until Tony relapsed and started drinking again. Actually, Tony had to fight the urge to go buy a bottle of whiskey right now.

“I… sorry, Pete. Just go back to sleep.”

The teen blinked at him and nodded, leaning back into his pillow. Tony buried his head in his hands again. Tony just wished he was a better man. Somebody who wasn’t haunted by the past.

Then Tony felt a heavy head leaning against his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked. The kid had his eyes still closed.

“I… yeah, Peter. Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s alright,” Peter muttered and started to cuddle Tony’s arm.

“I… I’m sorry, Pete, you deserve so much better,” Tony told the boy.

“Don’t worry. School only starts at ten tomorrow. I can sleep in.”

“That’s not what I mean, kiddo. I… you deserve better. Better than me.”

At that the teen stiffened. He let go of Tony’s arm.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked. He sounded more awake now.

“You deserve better than me, Peter. I’m not a great man. I mean, yeah, I’m a genius, insanely rich and I’ve saved the city from aliens once, but I’m just not a great man. I’m not even sure if I’m a good man. But you… you are the best, kid. You didn’t deserve all the things that had happened to you and you certainly deserve someone better than me. I’m so, so sorry, Pete. I’m sorry that I’m all you get.”

Some part of Tony had hoped that Peter would object vehemently and tell Tony how great he was, but instead Peter just grinned and leaned back against Tony’s shoulder.

Then after a long pause, Peter started talking.

“You know, Ben said the same thing to me. A lot of times,” Peter told the man.

“What?”

“Ben was only 26, when my parents died, you know,” Peter begun telling Tony, “Before he was my guardian, he was just my cool uncle, who would babysit me for one night- He would spoil me with candies and with movies I usually wasn’t allowed to watch yet. He would take me out to Coney Island, or swimming, or even to the Stark Expo once.  But then my parents died, and he suddenly had to be more than my cool uncle. He and May weren’t living together yet. So, I lived alone with him at the beginning in his tiny apartment in Queens. We struggled so much. He had to work two different jobs and he had to take care of me.”

Tony could hear Peter gulp.

“The first time he told me I deserved better than him… It’s actually an embarrassing story…. But yeah. I was only eight, you know. So, I was of course already dressing myself. I wasn’t a baby. But I was used to my mom lying out my clothes in the morning. Ben didn’t do that. He just didn’t know. And I was wearing clean clothes every day. Just not… clean underwear? I mean, I was eight. I just didn’t really know or, I guess, I forgot. And Ben didn’t notice. It was actually Ned’s mom, who noticed after a month or so that I was scratching myself all the time. She was worried and took me to the paediatrician one afternoon. I had like a really bad rash. The paediatrician then called my uncle and god, I still remember how Ben got scolded by Ned’s mom and the doctor. They told him that he was supposed to grow up and be more responsible and that he was being neglectful. I thought it was very mean, because I knew how hard Ben had been working. They even threatened to call CPS to check up on me and all. Back at home Ben had cried and apologized so much.”

Then Peter laughed, but it was a sad, nostalgic laugh. “Ben then asked me I think every morning for three months if I have changed my underwear. Even in front of May, who slowly spend more and more time with us. That was like super embarrassing.”

“So, your uncle… he learned from his mistakes?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Peter continued, “It doesn’t mean that he stopped making mistakes. The last time he told me I deserved better than him…”

Peter paused and Tony could feel that Peter was tensing up.

“The last time he told me I deserved better… It was maybe a few months before he died. I just made it to the final round of that robot competition.”

“Oh, yeah. I read about that,” Tony said, “When I was researching you. You had a pretty awesome robot design, well more of an AI though. A driving assistant to prevent accidents. It even analysed past accidents in the city and warned you at dangerous spots.”

“Yeah… You read up on that?”

“Sure, kid. It was great design. I thought you should have won a prize. But it was a Hammer Industries sponsored competition. So, no surprise there. They’re idiots.”

Peter gave him a short laugh.

“Well, anyway. I was invited to the nationals and all. They were in New York. So, Ben wanted to drive me.  But I guess he had been tired after work the evening before and he had forgotten to pull out the car key in the evening.”

“Somebody stole the car?”

Peter laughed again. “No, I don’t think anybody would’ve been desperate enough to steal that car. But the battery died overnight. But we still had enough time to make it to the competition on time if we took the metro. So, we ran to the metro station. And well, then when I was about to enter the metro, somebody shoved me and fell on my robot.”

“Your robot broke?”

“Yeah. And we missed the metro because I had to pick up all the pieces. So, we arrived at the competition ten minutes too late and my robot was just a pile of scraps. But Ben somehow convinced the lady at the front desk to still let me in. So, I didn’t get disqualified.”

Peter seemed to think about something, before continuing.

“So, there were all those kids presenting their robots. And their robots were all so shiny and new, you know? While I just had a pile of scraps. I remember how sad Ben had looked, when we entered the hall. Like he knew that I had no chance of winning. I guess he also noticed how all those parents helped their kids and well, Ben was good at welding, but aside from that he couldn’t help me with anything. He looked so damn… sad?  I didn’t manage to repair the robot on time and I could only present the code I wrote. I didn’t win any price. The winner was this kid with this huge robot arm that was like super good with a basketball. The winner got like a scholarship to the college of their choosing. Pretty awesome. And the other five first prices won like some money or scholarships to some summer programs.”

“They were idiots,” Tony told Peter, “Your code was genius to be honest.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “But the other kid’s robots just looked so… awesome. But yeah. Well, the one juror approached us afterwards and told us that my code was… really good and that he thought that I should have won. I guess that only made Ben sadder. And when we left the competition, we saw the kid that won entering like this huge BMW and his dad was wearing this super expensive suit... I don’t know. Ben seemed so frustrated. Then, when we were back at the metro station, Ben realized that he didn’t have enough money for the ride back. I guessed that tipped it over. He started crying and hugging me. He told me that he was screwing up my future.”

Tony pulled an arm around Peter. He suddenly wished to have known the kid back then already. He wished that he hat met the man who was at least partly the reason why the kid was so awesome. And he wished that he could have bought Ben a nice car. And a lab for Peter, in which he could would have probably built the best robot ever.

Tony wished that he could tell Ben, that Tony would make sure that Peter had every chance to at least acadamically fullfill all of his potential.

“Pretty shitty day, huh?” Tony asked.

“What? No,” Peter said, “The day was great. I mean, yeah, the competition kind of sucked. But after the competition I got to spend the whole day with Ben, because he had taken the day off for the competition.”

Tony hugged the kid tighter. _God, this kid…_

“So, we had to walk home, but we went to this park. There was this old homeless lady and Ben always packed some extra lunch and gave to her on his way to work. Well, she was feeding some ducks with bread crumbles and then she gave us some bread crumbles, too. So, Ben and I fed the ducks for quiet some time. And they weren’t scared at all, because they know the old lady. Even the baby ducks weren’t scared. Then Ben and I went home, made some popcorn and watched a movie before May came home. It was a great day.”

Yeah, Tony didn’t deserve that kid. But probably nobody deserved him.

“So, what you’re saying is…. that Ben wasn’t perfect, but that it was still alright?” Tony drew as a conclusion. But Peter shook his head.

“Ben was perfect,” Peter said, “Mr. Stark, I’ve been an… orphan for almost half of my life. But I have never felt alone. Ben and May never let me. I always felt wanted and… loved? I mean not everything had been easy, but Ben was perfect in every way that mattered. He was there for me and that’s all I needed. I never felt alone, when I was with him. Or with May.”

“You miss him a lot, huh?” Tony asked his voice low, pained.

“Yeah, I do.”

Tony went with his hand through Peter’s hair. Tony’s mouth felt suddenly dry. He barely had the courage to ask the next question.

“Do you feel alone, when you’re… with me?”

Peter didn’t answer immediately. Tony could feel his heartbeat in his chest. The teen lifted his head and looked at him. The expression on Peter’s face was warm.

“I don’t… Tony.”


	34. Chapter 34

The next morning Tony woke up feeling cheerful. Pepper was still sleeping, her face nuzzled against Tony’s shoulders, her arm was lying across his chest and a few strands of her hair were on his face almost making him sneeze. He smiled happily and kissed her head, before carefully getting out of the bed without waking her.

He had to grin, when he thought about Peter’s and his conversation the day before. Tony would have never thought that hearing his own name would ever make him feel so much… at ease?

 _‘Good night, kid,’_ Tony had said and kissed the kid’s soft hair, before he had left the kid’s room again.

 _‘Good night, Mr… Tony,’_ Peter had answered.

He had the greatest kid on earth, didn’t he? Ah, no. Not the greatest kid on earth. Probably the greatest kid in the universe.

Tony walked into the kitchen, told Friday to start making coffee and he began mixing flour, baking powder, eggs, butter and milk in a bowl for some pancakes. It was the kid’s first day back in school and Tony thought since he already woke up early, he could make a good breakfast. He started whistling a tune whose origin he didn’t remember, while he put some butter in a pan and turned the gas on.

“Somebody woke up in a good mood,” Pepper said. She appeared behind him, wearing a long, dark blue morning gown. She hugged him from behind and kissed his neck.

“It’s Peter’s first day back to school,” Tony answered, and Pepper chuckled.

“You were already asleep, when I came home,” she continued.

“Yeah. Sorry. I was tired, I guess. I wanted to wait for you, but I just fell asleep.” Tony answered and turned around to give Pepper a kiss back.

Pepper just huffed a laugh. “Nothing to be sorry about, Tony. I was actually relieved because I know how much you struggle with sleeping. I don’t think you had a full night of sleep in ages.”

Tony kissed her again and pressed her against him.

“I’m just happy, you know?”

She smiled warmly at him and rested her head against his chest.

“I’m happy, too, Tony.”

They cuddled for moment longer, before Pepper turned to the coffee machine.

“Oh, do I smell coffee? Friday you’re the best.”

Tony was already done making the first pancakes, when a dishevelled looking teenager entered the kitchen and sat down on the kitchen counter. Peter was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The kid has clearly come directly out of bed, before even going to bathroom. Tony couldn’t blame him, the smell of freshly made pancakes had filled the room quickly. He couldn’t imagine what the kid was probably smelling with his enhanced senses.

“Good morning,” Peter greeted and then yawned, “Pancakes?”

“Yes, pancakes. What do you want, Pete? Chocolate or maple syrup?” Tony wanted.

“Can I have one with maple syrup, please Mr. Stark?” Peter asked.

Tony gave him a disappointed look. Confused and maybe even a bit startled Peter looked back. Then, he seemed to understand and gave Tony a shy smile.

“Can I have a pancake with maple syrup, please Tony?”

At that Tony a winning grin formed on the man’s lips.

“Yes, sure, Pete.”

Pepper raised a questioning eyebrow at Tony. _When did that happen?_ her expression asked.

Tony just grinned wider and shrugged.

 

* * *

Dropping of Peter at school hadn’t been so difficult this time. While there were still a bunch of reporters waiting for the teenager, there had also been police and Tony’s own security keeping the reporters away not only from Peter, but also from the school ground and other students. Ned had waited for Peter at the entrance. The two of them kind of reminded Tony of Rhodey and himself. Well, a much nerdier version of Rhodey and himself. A much, much nerdier version of Rhodey and himself. But Tony knew that a close friend was important. And Tony really appreciated that Ned kid. He was kind andsmart (he had hacked into the suit Tony made one after all). But Tony also knew that Ned wouldn’t drag Peter into to trouble.

After Tony had dropped off Peter at school, the mechanic went to visit Rhodey, who was improving quickly. Of course, Rhodey had been angry at Tony about what Tony had said to Peter in that video. But Rhodey had also understood quickly, how Tony had felt. He understood that Tony was sensitive about drugs, giving the billionaires own history with drug and alcohol abuse.

Rhodey had reprimanded Tony, but the other man had also quickly switched back to other, easier topics.

Then Tony went to his lab in the Avengers compound just to check up on a few of his project, which he had completely ignored for the past... months really.

Tony was just looking through a code he had written for his new Iron Suit, when his phone rang. It was Pepper.

“Hi, honey.”

“At the compound. I went to see Rhodey and now I’m catching up on few things in the lab before picking Peter up from school,” he briefly informed her.

“Tony,” she started but then hesitated.

“Yeah?”

“We need to talk. You should come home now,” a slight tremor in her voice made Tony’s pulse rise.

“Talk? Talk about what?” Tony wanted to now impatiently.

“Maybe you should come to the city first…”

Tony took a deep breath to calm himself. If Pepper wanted to talk and she didn’t want to say it over the phone, that only meant that she had bad news.

“Pepper, what is this about? Tell me at least about what you want to talk,” Tony insisted. Pepper swallowed at the other end of the line.

“CPS is questioning the legitimacy of the papers Peter’s aunt signed about your guardianship,” she explained slowly.

“Yeah, well. That’s nothing new, is it now? I thought our lawyers have been quite confident that they would need more proof that I blackmailed May,” Tony argued back. Pepper didn’t answer anything for a few seconds. Tony’s heart was racing painfully in his heart.

“They are questioning something different now. Apparently, a reporter has managed to get on May’s medical files… CPS are questioning if she should have even been allowed to make this kind of decisions over Peter’s life,” Pepper explained. Tony’s heart skipped a beat.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“She has a brain tumour, Tony,” Pepper told him as if that would explain everything.

“So what? She’s mentally fine. I talked to her several times. She’s fine.”

“I know, Tony. I know that. The family court service asked a doctor to evaluate May’s mental state though,” his fiancée informed him.

“What are you telling me?” Tony snapped.

“We might lose him. If that doctor decide that May shouldn’t have been eligible to decide about Peter’s next guardian, we might lose him.”

 

* * *

It was getting dark already, when Peter jumped into the car. Even though school had started late today, Peter still had a long day of school behind him. But the boy seemed more energetic than ever. He grinned widely at Tony.

“Hey Mr. Stark. Tony. I mean. Tony. Hey Tony,” the kid greeted him. Tony tried to smile, too. Tony didn’t think that he was successful with that, but Peter didn’t seem to notice.

“How was school, Underoos?” Tony asked.

“Great,” Peter said enthusiastically, “It’s nice to have something to do again… I guess? My classmates were pretty cool today, too. We all sat together at lunch time. All twenty of us. We’ve never done that before. And in Mrs. Warren’s class we started planning the tutoring program. That was cool. Although, I guess, I would have liked to do some more physics, too. But I got a lot of homework. Ned and MJ have like copied everything I’ve missed. I have a lot to work through.”

The kid talked about homework as if it was something fun. Tony had never liked schoolwork. Sure, he had been good at it. But as soon as somebody had told him to do something, he had felt the urge to rebel.

“That’s great, Peter,” Tony said. But this time Tony’s face enthusiasm couldn’t fool Peter.

“Did something happen?” The teenager asked.

“I… Yes. We will talk about it at home. With Pepper.”

Peter shoulders sank. His wide grin got replaced with a worried expression.

“Is it about the media again?” Peter wanted to know.

“Yeah. Kind of,” Tony told the teen. Peter glanced at him anxiously before leaning back again and sighing loudly. There was a long pause and Tony was relieved that Peter didn’t insist about talking right now. It would be easier for Tony to appear confident about the situation if Pepper was there.

There were driving for quite some time in silence until Peter suddenly turned to him again.

“Uh, do you know what happened to Alex?” Peter wanted to know.

“What?” Tony asked back, frowning a bit. “Who’s Alex?”

“The drug dealer. Bobby’s boss.” Peter said back.

Tony grew slightly irritated. Honestly, he hadn’t thought a lot about Peter’s drug dealer buddy for a while. After calling his lawyers to help the teen, Tony had been done with him.

“Friday, an update on Bobby’s case?” Tony asked his AI. Immediately the female voice answered.

“The police didn’t charge Robert Austen with any crime. Robert Austen informed the police about all of Alexander Turgenev’s business and provided them with proof. Alexander Turgenev got arrested about twelve hours after they had first arrested Robert. Turgenev is in jail now and he will be trailed in about two weeks.”

“Thanks, Fri. That enough information for you, Pete?” Tony said. Peter’s brows were slightly furrowed.

“I don’t know. If everything went so well… Bobby was at school today. But he was weird. He didn’t want to talk to me,” Peter explained.

Tony clenched his teeth. Well, Tony also didn’t want the Bobby to talk to Peter. Even if Bobby was just a victim of unfortunate circumstances, Tony didn’t want his kid to be drawn into that boy’s mess as well. They had enough struggles without Peter having a drug-dealer friend.

“Well, you did get him arrested, didn’t you?” Tony said, maybe a little bit to sharply.

“I… yeah. I guess,” Peter answered, “But he had a black eye… I don’t know. I’m worried?”

Tony tried his very best not to show his annoyance.

“Kid, I’m not really surprised if your friend there might be hanging out with the wrong crowd. We helped him as much as we could. The rest is up to him.”

“But…”

“But we have our own problems.”

 

* * *

“What do you mean? May’s signature might be invalid? But she’s fine. I mean, yes. I guess she has a tumour in her brain, but she’s alright.” Peter protested after they have explained everything to him. Peter was sitting at the dining table with Pepper and Tony. In the middle of the table was a copy of the paper that May had signed weeks ago.

“She’s fine. And hopefully the court’s doctor will agree, and we have worried about nothing. But there is a chance, Pete,” Tony tried to make clear to boy as softly as he could, “that the court will decide that May had no right to appoint me as your guardian.”

“What? And I need to go back to the group home?” Peter snapped back. His eyes were wide with fear. Tony’s mouth felt to dry to answer.

“It might come to that, Peter,” Pepper said gently, “But even if it comes to that, it will only be temporary. Tony and I’ll start the process to become foster parents as soon as possible. Our lawyers will make sure that we’ll speed everything up as much as we can. It will only be for one to three months.”

Tony actually hadn’t thought that far. He hadn’t thought about what they would do, if they take Peter away. Tony was glad that his fiancée was sometimes just more practical than him. One to three months? That wasn’t too bad, was it? The expression on Peter’s face though said otherwise.

“I…” Peter’s eyes filled with tears, “I don’t want that. I don’t want to go back to the group home.”

“We know, honey,” Pepper told him softly, “We don’t want you gone either. But it’s not as simple as that. If we don’t have officially custody over you, then we can’t keep you.”

“But… that’s stupid. The group home is too full anyway. Why would they take me away from you? It doesn’t make any sense!” Peter argued. The kid was smart, Tony was certain that Peter knew the answers to his own question. But yes, Tony agreed. It didn’t make any sense.

“Honey…” Pepper started to calm him, but Peter just flinched away and stood up.

“What about May? When can I go back to May?” Peter wanted to know.

Again, Tony guessed that Peter knew the answers to his own questions.

“Peter…” Pepper tried to calm him again.

“You can do something? Right, Mr. Stark? I mean, you’re Iron Man. Can’t you like… call the president and tell him that you want to keep me?” Desperation was written all over the kid’s face.

Tony swallowed.

“We’ll keep you. But it has to be the right way, kiddo.” Tony said to the teen.

“So, I’ll stay with you? I’m not going back to the group home?”

“I… I can’t promise that, Pete. But we’ll get you back.”

Peter was very still for a few seconds. His breathing was loud, but other than that his body was stiff. He was just looking at Tony. Calculating. Calculating if he could trust the man’s words.

Tony’s heart sunk. He thought they were past that. Tony thought that he had Peter’s trust already.

“I… I’m going to bed early,” Peter finally said, “Good night.”

 

* * *

“Pete? Can I come in?” Tony had knocked twice on Peter’s door already. Tony had wanted to talk to Peter immediately after their discussion earlier, but Pepper had convinced him that he should wait about an hour and give Peter time to process.

“Pete, I have your dinner. I’m coming in, alright?”

There was no answer again. Tony opened the door and walked into the room. For a second Tony feared that the kid was gone, but then he saw the kid on the ceiling. The kid was curled up into a ball. Even though Tony couldn’t see the kid’s face, he just knew that Peter was crying. The man sighed and put Peter’s dinner, some pasta he had quickly made, on the teen’s desk.

“Come down, Spider-Boy,” Tony said, “I think we should talk some more.”

“Leave me alone,” Peter muttered back.

“Only after we had a talk.”

“Go away.”

“Kiddo, please.”

Finally, Peter let go of the ceiling and landed in front of Tony. Tony had been right. Of course, the kid had cried. His eyes were red and puffy.  The kid took a few steps towards the man and then suddenly hugged him tightly.

“I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark,” the teen said. Tony pulled his arms around the kid and pressed the kid’s head against his chest.

“I don’t want you to go, kiddo. But if it comes to that, I’ll get you back. I promise.”

Peter didn’t answer anything. But Tony could feel, how the kid’s breathing calmed.

“It might not even come to that, kid,” Tony continued, “I mean we’ve both talked to May several times. She seems mentally fit.”

Tony could feel that Peter was struggling with his next reply.

“I’m not sure, Mr. Stark,” the kid admitted, “She… seems confused at times? She asked me about Ben once. I don’t know. Maybe she was just tired.”

Tony’s heart started racing.

“But what if she’s tired, when she talks to the doctor evaluating her?”, Peter continued.

“I… You will not go anywhere, kid. You’re staying with me.” Tony said.

“Don’t promise something you can’t keep, Mr. Stark,” the teen muttered back.

“It’s Tony now, kid,” the man insisted, “Please call me Tony.”

“What if they take me away and you never get custody back, Mr. Stark? I mean with everything the media is talking about…”

At that Tony let go of Peter. The man’s hands were trembling slightly, and he hoped that Peter didn’t notice.

“I will be your legal guardian, kid. I have more money than a middle-sized nation and I have most of the world’s most powerful men and women on speed dial. Do you really think that CPS could take you away from me?”

Peter’s brown eyes were wide as Tony talked.

“You’re my kid, Peter. Maybe not by blood, but in every other way that matters. And nobody can take you away from me.”

 

* * *

It was four at night. Peter had fallen asleep two hours ago, Pepper one hour ago. Tony looked at his monitor and went through all the files he had on Peter for the fifth time. Tony wouldn’t let anybody take Peter away.

Then Tony glanced at his phone. He knew somebody he could call. It was a bit late, but then again Tony didn’t really care. It’s not like the other man had any boundaries either. Tony pressed the number four on his speed dial.

It didn’t take long before somebody picked up the phone.

“Stark?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments! I had the impression that a lot of people really liked my last chapter and I'm glad that you did. That chapter had been on my mind for quiet some time.
> 
> The story is pretty long by now. I'm happy that people are still sticking to the story. I know that I sometimes drop stories, when they get too long because I have troubles remembering all the plots and I'm not in the mood for rereading chapters. BUt yeah, kudos to everybody who has more stamina than me.  
> I think we will reach the last third of the story soon. I guess there will be around fifteen to twenty more chapters? So, yeah. There's still a long way to go. But updates will come faster now, because I'm less busy for the coming weeks.


	35. Chapter 35

“So, let me get this straight, Stark. You’re calling me in the middle of the night to ask me for help in a child custody case?” Fury questioned disbelievingly.

“No, I’m asking you to keep Spider-Man out the system. I think we can agree that we don’t want an enhanced teenager in the custody of people we know nothing about.”

Fury scoffed loudly. “Yes, of course. _That’s_ why you’re calling me. You’re concerned because Parker is enhanced.”

“Well, that’s part of it,” Tony admitted, “And I know that SHIELD could overrule any decision CPS makes.”

“And why exactly would we do that? Parker will do fine in the system like almost half a million other kids in the US.”

“He’s enhanced. He has special needs. And not the kind of special needs we can’t write on his CPS file.”

Again, Fury just laughed. “Special needs? Like what? He needs a special gym, because he can, you know, lift a car? Multiple cars?”

“The kid needs thrice as much food as a normal teenager. He lost 15 pounds while he was in the group home,” Tony said, but he knew that his argument wasn’t convincing before he had even said it. As if Fury would care if the kid was underweight.

“Well, I’m not stopping you from giving him money for food. Other than that, I’m pretty sure the kid is old enough to feed himself,” Fury said back, obviously unimpressed.

“We will have difficulties to take him to mission.”

“Yeah? Well, I wasn’t planning on taking him anywhere anytime soon. Not after Poland.”

Tony clenched his hand tightly around the phone. He suddenly had the desire to throw the phone against the wall. Maybe he should have asked Friday to put Fury on speaker.

“You owe me, Fury,” Tony hissed in the phone.

“I owe _you?_ ” The other man’s tone was mocking, “For what exactly? As far as I remember I saved your ass in Sokovia.”

Tony swallowed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Nick, please. He’s a kid. A good kid. Better than any of us. We can’ let him down.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. Just when Tony thought, that Fury might have hung up already, the other man sighed tiredly.

“Look, Tony,” Fury’s voice was a bit softer than before, “If I thought that it was a smart move, I would help you. I’m not being an ass here. Actually, I’m glad that you have stepped up and taken the kid under your wings. I appreciate that you mentor him. But adopting him? That’s going too far. I don’t think that Parker will be safe while he lives you.”

Tony frowned. “What? You believe the crap the media is saying too? That my enemies will target Peter? Even if they would, tell me who would have a chance against Iron Man and Spider-Man?”

Fury sighed, “Stark, how long do you think it will take for somebody to draw the connections and figure out that Peter Parker is Spider-Man? How long until somebody figures out that the teenage vigilante of Queens is actually Iron Man’s adopted kid from Queens? You haven’t thought about that? Are you kidding me?”

Tony’s heart dropped. No, he hadn’t thought about that. Why hadn’t he thought about that? Because it was ridiculous, he tried to convince himself. Fury was being paranoid.

“That’s your concern? That Peter’s identity gets revealed?” Tony questioned angrily.

“Yes, that’s my concern. And it should be yours, too. Because I don’t think you want your vigilante kid to be arrested by Thaddeus Ross.”

“Nobody is going to figure Peter’s identity out,” Tony claimed.

“Oh, is that so? Let me tell you, the only reason that Parker is not on the raft yet is, that I have given Ross the dumbest team of SHIELD agents to investigate Spider-Man and a handful of people sabotaging the investigation.”

Tony knew that Peter Parker wasn’t officially known to SHIELD. Fury and he had agreed that only a small group of people that Fury trusted would learn about Spider-Man’s identity. Tony of course had done some extensive background checks and was surveilling everyone who knew about Peter.  

Technically Peter had been supposed to sign the Sokovia Accords the moment Tony had recruited him to fight against Cap. Of course, Tony hadn’t made Peter sign the accords, because, also technically, Tony would be in deep shit if the government found out that he had taken a minor across state borders without a guardian’s consent and made him fight in what basically was a government operation.

When Ross hadn’t asked Tony about Spider-Man, Tony had just believed that Ross had turned a blind eye, considering that Spider-Man had fought on their side. Or Tony had hoped that the enhanced vigilante in red and blue just wasn’t interesting enough for secretary of state.

“Ross is investigating Spider-Man?”

Fury snorted. “What do you think? He started investigating him the minute the kid first appeared on the news. The kid was damn lucky that it was you who found him first.”

“Okay, alright. I guess that makes sense. Ross is investigating Spider-Man,” Tony agreed. He had to swallow because his throat felt painfully tight. Ross probably had never asked Tony about Spider-Man, because the man knew that billionaire would have just given him a bullshit story.

“That doesn’t mean that anybody will draw the connection between Spider-Man and Peter just because Peter is living with me,” Tony kept insisting.

“You’re the genius,” Fury said scornfully, “What do you think?  That people will believe that you and Peter are just another Orphan Annie story? The egocentric billionaire Tony Stark aka Iron Man adopted a teenager out of the good of his heart? Oh, please.”

Tony went with a hand through his hair and breathed out heavily.

“They think I’m fostering him because he’s a genius. They think I’m looking for an heir,” Tony argued. Suddenly Tony was glad for the ridiculous stories the media was telling.

“Yes, that’s what the wider public believes. And you can thank me for that,” Fury told the man, again there was some dark amusement in the man’s voice.

“You leaked the information on Peter’s IQ?” Tony quickly connected the dots. Tony hadn’t really been surprised when the reporters had figured out Peter’s IQ. By now he wouldn’t be surprised if reporters somehow managed to find out how his poop looked in the morning, but he had still wondered how the hell the reporters had gotten that information. Tony himself had learned about Peter’s IQ by hacking into the school psychologist’s computer, but that wasn’t something reporters usually did.

“Yeah, I did that,” Fury affirmed, “Or my team did that. We first tried to stop the story from going public all together, but there’s not much even we can do against the freedom of the press. But we could steer the story away from Iron Man and Spider-Man.”

Tony closed his eyes for a second and leaned farther into his chair.

“Okay, okay. The media wants a story? I will give them one. I can give an interview and confirm that Peter will be my heir.”

Tony didn’t like that idea and he was certain that Peter also wouldn’t like to be officially the Tony’s heir. But Tony had to admit, Fury had a point. If Ross found out that Peter was in fact Spider-Man…

“That might work,” Fury said, “Or it might not. The safest way would still be to keep the kid out of the media’s attention. That means keeping him out of your life as much as possible.”

Tony wanted to tell the man that it wasn’t true, but some part of Tony, a loud, screaming part, told the Avenger that Nick was right. Tony pressed his lips together.

“Tony,” Fury’s voice was a bit gentler again, “I know you care about the kid. But that’s the reason why you should keep him away from you. Between the raft and a group home, I believe a group home is the better choice.”

Tony stood up from his chair and walked to a shelf in the corner of his lab. There was a framed picture of him and Peter. It was that photo they hade taken for May after Peter’s fake internship. Tony himself had never been the kind of person to print out pictures and frame them. But Peter apparently was. He had found the picture between the kid’s books. And something had  made Tony take it and place it in his lab. Peter had just given Tony a shy but approving smile when he had seen it in the man’s lab.

Why? Why was it always so difficult? Tony had everything a man could wish for but he never got the things he desired most.

_You’re a man who has everything… and nothing._

“You already know what the court’s doctors will decide about May, don’t you Nick?” Tony asked in a whisper. There was no accusation in Tony’s voice, just the weariness of a man who wanted to be done fighting.

A pregnant pause follwed.

 “Yeah.”

 

* * *

“You didn’t sleep,” Pepper said as she entered Tony’s lab. Quickly the man glanced at the clock on a display. It was seven in the morning. Tony didn’t answer anything, but just kept working.

“Another suit?” Pepper questioned as she looked at Tony’s work, “Tony…”

“I’m just improving my last one,” Tony lied. Pepper sighed and went with a hand through Tony’s hair.

“Our lawyers called me this morning,” Pepper informed him, “They have built an argument that evaluating May’s mental health now doesn’t proof that she was unfit to sign the papers back then. They have an appointment with a neurologist who will look into the growth of May’s tumour.”

Tony looked up from his work.

“That’s good news, Tony,” Pepper tried to cheer him up and squeezed his shoulder.

The man held his breath and closed his tired eyes for a few seconds.

“I talked to Fury last night,” Tony told his fiancée.

Pepper frowned a bit. “When?”

“I called him after you went to sleep,” Tony informed her.

“Why?”

“I thought he could help. The man has his strings everywhere.”

Tony could see that Pepper didn’t like the idea of calling Fury already.

“And?”

Tony gulped.

“Call our lawyers off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story SHIELD still exists as a goverment organization. I'm not sure what exactly the status of SHIELD is in the MCU, but alright. Maybe soembody's MCU knowledge is better than mine and can clarify things for me?
> 
> So anyway. Sorry for the short chapter, but I will make it up to you by posting the next one fast. This chapter just had enough plot development already, I think. Don't worry usually my chapters tend to be rather long than short and I'm not planning on changing that. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments. And I have 2000 kudos. I'm so happy about that.


	36. Chapter 36

Peter knew something had happened the morning he had woken up. He was the first in the kitchen, which was… a first. Every other day Mr. Stark had woken up before Peter. He wouldn’t have made pancakes all the time, but at least he would have already been sitting next to the kitchen island with a coffee in his hand and wishing Peter a good morning with a smile on his face.

Slightly confused Peter went to the cupboard and tried to find the cereal and a bowl. After opening half of the kitchen cupboards, he finally succeeded. Peter wondered, if he should wait. But he had to get ready soon, school was starting at earlier today.

“Hey, Friday,” Peter asked into the room, still feeling kind of uncomfortable to be speaking to somebody who was never physically present, “Where are Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts?”

“They’re in Tony’s lab, Peter,” the female voice answered, “They are having a discussion. I would recommend you start eating without them, you don’t want to be late for school.”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter murmured and filled his bowl with cereal and milk.

“What are they discussing?” Peter wanted to know.

“I can’t give you that information,” the AI answered not much to Peter’s surprise.

The teenager sighed and pulled out his phone. He opened the newsfeed and twitter, checking up on stories about him and Mr. Stark. There was nothing new. That meant that Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts were probably still discussing about the CPS questioning May’s mental health.

Peter was almost done with his breakfast, when Mr. Stark followed by Ms. Potts finally came to the kitchen. Unlike every other day, Mr. Stark didn’t even greet Peter. The man walked just straight to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup of what Peter suspected was cold coffee from the day before.

Ms. Potts had a frown on her face as if she just had a fight with Mr. Stark. But when she saw Peter looking at her, her expression softened.

“Good morning, Peter. Did you have breakfast already? We need to leave in twenty minutes. I’m driving you today,” Ms. Potts told him. Her tone was a little bit too gentle strengthening Peter’s feeling that something was wrong.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I just need to pack my backpack, then I’m ready,” Peter muttered and watched as Mr. Stark downed his coffee and poured himself a second one.

“I’m in my lab,” Mr. Stark said.

Without having even looked once at Peter the man left the kitchen.

 

* * *

Ms. Potts didn’t want to tell him what was wrong. She just pushed it away and said there was nothing Peter had to worry about. But it didn’t help Peter’s anxiety.

School was fine. Better than it had ever been. Somehow his class had grown closer together after Peter’s hearing. Group projects seemed to go smoother and for once Flash wasn’t bullying anybody. Mrs. Warren’s tutoring program had become the students most popular topic. A few have already given their fist tutoring lessons to kids. Betty was bragging to everyone how adorable her tutoring student was, a little girl with red hair, and even MJ had smiled, when she had told Ned and Peter how her tutoring lesson with a kid that had immigrated from India went.

The school day passed by quickly, even though Peter’s thoughts always went back to Mr. Stark’s behaviour in the morning. He just had a bad morning, Peter was telling himself. Mr. Stark had looked kind of tired after all.

School was already over, when Peter quickly went to the library to borrow a book, MJ had recommended him. Most students rushed home after school, so Peter wasn’t surprised to find the school’s library empty. He quickly browsed through the titles and picked out the novel MJ told him to read.

When he went to the librarian’s desk, he saw Bobby.

“Oh, Robert, what happened to your face?” The librarian, an elderly woman, who volunteered at Midtown, asked. Her concern sounded almost grandmotherly. Bobby touched his face. Additionally, to the black eye he also had the day before, there was a cut on the teenager’s cheek as well.

For a second Bobby seemed startled by the woman’s question, but then he gave her one of his charming, innocent smiles and put two chemistry books on her desk.

“Skateboarding,” he told the woman, “Everybody told me that those stairs and my skateboard are not a good combination. I guess I should have listened.”

The woman seemed to relax a bit. She smiled a little and shook her head.

“Be a bit more careful, my dear. That head of yours is your most valuable possession. You wouldn’t want to hurt it.”

“I will try to be more careful, Mrs. Maxwell,” Bobby answered and packed the books into his backpack after Mrs. Maxwell had scanned them.

“Oh Peter,” Mrs. Maxwell greeted the younger teenager, “I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you doing?”

Bobby only noticed Peter now. He turned around. His eyes met for a second with Peter. Then Bobby just quickly wished them a good day and left the library.

Peter cut the small talk with Mrs. Maxwell short and ran after Bobby as soon as the woman had scanned his book aswell.

“Bobby, hey, wait!” Peter shouted after Bobby, who was apparently rushing to get away from Peter.

“What?” Bobby turned and snapped at the younger teenager, “What do you want, Parker?”

Peter took a step back and gulped.

“I… sorry, Bobby. I know you’re angry with me… I never wanted Mr. Stark to call the police on you. But he got you lawyers, right? The police let you go, and they got Alex. That’s good right? But yeah, I’m still sorry.” Peter mumbled through his apology.

“Yeah, sure. Everything is good,” Bobby said his voice laced with sarcasm. “So why are you bothering me, Parker?”

“I… I know that you don’t skateboard. So, what did really happen?” Peter wanted to know.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Why do you care?”

“Because… We’re friends, aren’t we?” Peter told the teenager. Peter wasn’t sure, but for a second he imagined that Bobby’s eyes softened, before he frowned even deeper.

“We aren’t Peter,” the teenager snarled, “Friends don’t tell on each other.”

“I didn’t tell anybody about you, I swear,” Peter defended himself, “Mr. Stark just hacked my phone and found out where I was going the whole week.”

“I trusted you, Parker,” Bobby spat, “I trusted you. I gave you keys to my apartment. I didn’t ask questions, bought you food and picked you up from your aunt’s hospital. And you? You just used me. You stole drugs from me and used my apartment to skip on school?”

“I… I didn’t use you,” Peter mumbled, “I only stole one pill, I swear.”

Bobby scoffed. “I know, when I’m being used. You lived with a fucking billionaire and didn’t even tell me?”

“Everything is just… so complicated?” Peter said apologetically, “It was too hard to explain, really.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t care anymore. Go live your happy rich life as Stark’s heir and better stay away from scum like me. I bet that’s what your foster daddy is telling you anyway.”

“I might go back to the group home,” Peter told the other teenager.

“I don’t really care, Parker.” Bobby shook his head and started to walk away.

“Who hurt you?” Peter then asked, his voice a bit louder again. When Bobby just continued to walk away, Peter ran after him.

“Who hurt you?” Peter asked again, “Maybe I can help? I mean Mr. Stark could…”

“Shut the fuck up, Peter. Leave me alone,” Bobby shouted at the boy, “You and Mr. Stark have done enough.”

“I said, I’m sorry. Please, just tell me. I want to help.”

At then Bobby halted. Just when Peter thought, that he Bobby finally would tell him who hurt him the older teenager grabbed Peter’s collar and shoved the smaller boy against the lockers in the hallway. It didn’t really hurt, not physically anyway. But it would have hurt, if Peter wasn’t enhanced. Startled Peter looked at Bobby, whose eyes were red from tears.

“And I want you to leave me alone,” Bobby shouted at Peter.

“It’s better that way,” Bobby mumbled to himself as he left. This time Peter didn’t follow.

 

* * *

It was Happy this time, who picked Peter up from school. They went straight to May in the hospital. Happy excused himself and left to the cafeteria of the hospital.

“Hello, honey,” May greeted Peter from her hospital bed. Tired eyes looked up at him. Quickly Peter went May and threw himself into her hug. He buried his shoulder in her shoulder and started to cry.

She hushed him and rubbed in soothing circles over his back. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He hugged her tighter. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” she told him and caressed his hair.

“I miss you, May,” Peter said, “I miss you every day.”

“I miss you, too, kiddo,” she told him. Peter usually tried to be strong in front of her, but right now he couldn’t stop the flow of tears. May just held him and kissed his hair.

She gently pulled his chin up and brushed some tears from his cheeks.

“Better?” She asked gently, after Peter’s tears ebbed. Peter nodded and sniffed. His nose was stuffy.

“Is this about what the media is saying?” May wanted to know.

Peter gulped and gave a small nodded. “A bit.”

May gently caressed his hair.

“You know that I would have never let Stark take you, if I thought he couldn’t take care of you.”

Peter looked at May.

“He was angry this morning.” Peter told her, “I don’t even know why.”

“Have you asked him?” May questioned.

“What… uh. No. I asked Ms. Potts, but she didn’t want to explain.”

“Maybe she didn’t tell you because it’s something Tony needs to tell you?

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Peter said and closed his eyes as May continued to stroke his hair.

“He cares a lot about you, you know that?” May continued after a while.

Peter opened his eyes. “I… I guess.”

“I didn’t just sign, when he asked to be your guardian, you know” May told Peter, “I wouldn’t have done that, Peter.”

Peter frowned a bit. “What do you mean?”

“Peter, when a billionaire asks to foster my nephew, my only family, do you really think I would just agree?”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. The teenager felt incredibly exhausted.

“Everything the media is saying about Stark,” May continued, “That were my first thoughts, too. That the man had been alcoholic, a party animal. I thought about what kind of danger you might be in next to him. I thought how he just wanted to use you.”

“How did Mr. Stark convince you then?”

“First, he didn’t. He told me how bad the group home was, but I still refused him.”

She paused for a second and swirled one of Peter’s curls around her finger.

“He started crying, Peter. Most men don’t cry easily. But a man that builds himself an armoured suit to escape terrorists in the desert of Afghanistan? A man who pushed a nuclear weapon into space? Before I saw him crying, I would have bet that Stark hadn’t shed a single tear in his adult life. He cares about you. I can tell. What he said to you in that video, that was wrong. But he didn’t mean it. And I talked a lot to Happy, too. Tony Stark cares a great deal about you, Peter.” May smiled at him.

“Yeah, I know. I know he cares about me.” Peter said with more certainty.

 

* * *

Peter hesitantly knocked on the glass door to Mr. Stark’s lab. The door opened automatically. The teenager took some careful steps into the lab. Mr. Stark didn’t look up, he was focused on a screen, apparently typing in some kind of code.

“I brought you some dinner, Mr. Stark. Ms. Potts said you haven’t eaten anything yet, today,” Peter said and looked at the plate with Thai food Ms. Potts had ordered.

Mr. Stark looked up for only a second before focusing back on his work, “Thanks. Put it on the table over there,” he muttered.

Peter nodded and placed the man’s dinner on a small empty table in the corner of the room. Peter was certain that Mr. Stark would just forget about the food and not eat it.

“Is there something else, Peter?” Mr. Stark questioned, when Peter didn’t leave the lab, “I’m kind of busy here.”

“I could help,” Peter offered.

“I need some time alone. Besides don’t you have homework? You’ve to catch up on a few weeks of school,” Mr. Stark told him, while simultaneously typing something.

Peter gulped. His heart was beating fast in his chest. May had told him to just ask Mr. Stark what’s going on, but it wasn’t as easy as that. Peter had never been the one to start a difficult conversation.

“What’s going on, Mr. Stark?” Peter blurted out quickly before his courage completely left him.

Mr. Stark stiffened. He turned towards Peter and for the first time today really looked at him. The man didn’t say anything, but just stared at Peter. The man looked exhausted. There were big, dark bags under his eyes, which were bloodshot red.

“What’s going on, Mr. Stark?” Peter repeated. “Something happened, I know.”

The man closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped. Still, the man didn’t answer.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked again, “Tony?”

Teary eyes looked back at Peter.

“I lied to you, Pete. I told you that CPS won’t take you away. But they will.”

Peter took in a sharp breath.

“What?”

“You’ve to go back to the group home,” Mr. Stark explained.

Peter clenched his fist. He could feel his heart racing in his chest.

“That’s okay. It will only be temporary, right? Ms. Potts and you will try to get me back though, won’t you? It will be for a few weeks. Or months. Until you get the permission to foster? It’s okay, Mr. Stark. I know that you don’t want me to go.”

The teenager took a few steps towards the mechanic. But Mr. Stark rolled away with his chair creating more distance between him and Peter.

Mr. Stark was pale. Was this the third day the man hadn’t slept?

“We aren’t, Peter. It’s not that I don’t want you living with us, but it will be safer if you aren’t, kiddo,” Mr. Stark explained.

“Uh, what?”

“I talked to Fury,” the man informed him, “He told me Spider-Man is under investigation. If you live with me, kiddo, it’s only a matter of time until somebody figures out who you really are.  You get that, right? The media gives us a lot of attention already and it won’t take long until somebody comes up with the theory that you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter eyes widened. He hadn’t really thought about that. Maybe because he didn’t want to think about that. The teenager gulped when he thought about the incident in Washington. Spider-Man saves the decathlon team of Iron Man’s fostered teenager. And the teenager wasn’t with his decathlon team, when it happened. At some point somebody would connect the dots.

“I really, really love having you here with us, kiddo,” Mr. Stark said with sorrow in his voice. He took a few steps towards the teen again, “God, I would give anything to have you with us. But it’s dangerous. If somebody figures out, who you really are…”

Peter’s thoughts wandered off to May, Ned, MJ and all his classmates. He thought about Spiderman’s enemies. If Peter’s identity got revealed they would all be in danger.

“You said Spider-Man is under investigation? Whose investigation? The police?” Peter wanted to know.

Mr. Stark’s expression was filled with pain. And regret maybe.

“Thaddeus Ross.”

“The secretary of state is investigating me? Why? That doesn’t make sense. Spider-Man is only active inside of the US. I have barely fought outside of Queens. Why would he be interested in me?” Panic was rising in his chest.

“Except that’s not true,” Mr. Stark said with a hoarse voice, “Ross obviously doesn’t know about you working for SHIELD in Poland. But he probably knows about Germany.”

Peter frowned.

“Yeah, but didn’t I kind of fight on his side? I mean, I fought for the accords, didn’t I? I did nothing wrong. Why would he be investigating me? I mean, I can’t be in trouble, right?”

“Pete, you broke the Sokovia Accords,” Mr. Stark told him, “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I should have never taken you to Germany.”

“I… what? No. I fought _for_ Sokovia Accords. How could I have broken them?”

The billionaire took a deep breath. “You should have signed them before going to Germany.”

“But… but… why haven’t I then?” Peter asked feeling confused. Back then the man hadn’t explained a lot to Peter. The man had just suddenly appeared in Peter’s and May’s apartment and swept him away. Peter had never questioned the man. Because why would he question Iron Man? Why would a teenager doubt the man who had saved his city, his life even?

“You were fourteen at the time, kid. The government would have never approved of me taking you to another country. Especially without your aunt’s approval. You couldn’t have just signed the accords and then gone to Germany with me. Besides I don’t trust Ross. I didn’t trust him with your identity then and I don’t trust him now.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Mr. Stark! Why would you let people in your team break the accords while fighting for the accords?” Peter argued.

“I never thought it would come to a fight,” the man defended himself, “I just wanted to talk some sense into Rogers. It was reckless of me to take you with me. If your identity ever gets revealed… well, it’s a one-way trip for you to the raft. And I would probably get a few years in prison for kidnapping a minor.”

“The raft?” Peter gulped. Anxiousness was settling in his stomach.

“I screwed up, kid,” Mr. Stark admitted, “Big time.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest some more, but then he didn’t exactly know what to protest. Everything Mr. Stark had said made sense. The accords were a legal document that was regulating activities of enhanced people working for the government. Technically, Peter had broken the accords when he had gone to Germany and fought on the airport in Leipzig. He had been aware of that even before. Peter had just thought that it didn’t really matter since he had fought on the side of the government.

Peter walked to the empty chair next to Mr. Stark’s and slumped down.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Mr. Stark said again in an almost pleading voice, “You trusted me, and I let you down. I let you down from the moment you met me.”

“If somebody figures out my identity… May would be in danger and Ned and maybe even all my classmates.”

The older man grimaced as if that thought had only occurred to him now. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“And if Ross figures it out…” Peter whispered.

“The raft.”

“And you go to prison.”

“Probably.”

 Mr. Stark crossed his arms and leaned on his desk next to Peter.

There was a long pause, when never of them said anything.

Then Peter had to huff a laugh. When did his life get just so complicated? After May had gotten sick? After Ben had gotten shot? After the spider bite? Or maybe long before that, when his parents had died?

“Sorry, kid. I let you down,” Mr. Stark mumbled again.

Peter looked up and gave the man a wry smile.

“You aren’t letting me down, Tony,” the teenager said softly, “I never thought that Ben let me down when he died. Or May, when she got sick. To think that… That wouldn’t be fair, would it? You aren’t letting me down. It’s just… not everything is in our control, you know?”

Tony pressed lips together and closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them again, tears were running down the man’s cheek.

The man looked at Peter for a few seconds, before he suddenly crouched down in front of Peter and took the teen’s hands in his.

“Let’s just leave, Pete.” Teary wide eyes stared at Peter, “All three of us.”

“We can just pack our things now and be on our way in an hour.” he continued, “We get on the plane, out of the country. Somewhere, where nobody cares about Iron Man or Spider-Man. Somewhere were neither Ross nor Fury could find us. How about we find some nice Island with a villa somewhere in the pacific? Or how do you like mountains? We can buy a mansion somewhere in the Swiss Alps?”

Peter almost had to roll his eyes. “Mr. Stark… That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not. What exactly is holding us back? Nothing.”

“Ms. Potts would never agree,” Peter argued.

“She would. If it meant that we were all safer, she would agree.”

“I have my aunt and my friends here. I can’t just go and live somewhere else.”

“May is coming with us. I can buy whatever medical equipment she needs, and fly Helen in as often as needed,” Mr. Stark quickly replied, “Your friends can visit. That can all be arranged.”

“I need to go to school. I can’t just drop out of high school,” Peter continued to protest.

“Uh, yeah, you can. I can teach you whatever you want to learn,” Mr. Stark said back.

“Mr. Stark, I’ll need a job one day. And for that I need a high school diploma at least.”

“You don’t need a job. I mean, I guess, if you’re bored, then you’ll need to find something to do. But it’s not like you’ll ever _have_ _to_ work.”

“Uh, no, Mr. Stark,” Peter disagreed, “One day I will need a job. Most people need a job. To get money? To survive? You know, not everybody is rich.”

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes.

“Kid, you’re rich,” the man claimed.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you’re,” Mr. Stark said back.

“I’m not. I don’t even really own the clothes, I’m wearing. Living with a rich person doesn’t make me rich.”

Mr. Stark squeezed Peter’s hands.

“Peter, I told you, you’re my kid.”

“But I’m not really your kid.,” Peter muttered, “You’re my temporary guardian and probably not even that for much longer. I’m sure you’ll have your own kids, one day, Tony. But I’m not really your kid. I’m just… some kid you happen to know? And that’s fine, really. You helped me, when I needed help most. I’m thankful.”

At that the man’s expression turned angry,

“Don’t you get it, Pete? You aren’t just some kid. You’re _my_ kid,” the man repeated now more slowly, “You always will be.”

Big brown eyes stared at Peter with determination. The grip on his hands now almost painfully tight.

“And everything I own is yours, too,” Mr. Stark continued, “Every dollar, every penny, every car, every house, my company. Even my suits. Everything I own is yours.”

Peter couldn’t stop his lip from quivering.

“Blood doesn’t make a family, but love does. And god, kid, I love you. I love you so, so much,” Mr. Stark confessed.

Peter pulled his hands out of Mr. Stark’s grip, slipped down from his chair and hugged Mr. Stark.

“Let’s leave, Pete. There’s _nothing_ holding us back,” Mr. Stark said again.

Peter closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar smell of the man’s deodorant mixed with motor oil.

“Spider-Man can’t leave New York,” Peter muttered.

“You’re fifteen. It’s not your job to protect the city. But fine. I can donate money to the police. A lot of money. New York will have the best funded police force in the world. And I will give security system to every person who wants it for free. Every New Yorker will have the highest developed security system for their shops, homes, cars. Even for their bikes if they want. Spider-Man can take a break. At least until you’re of age.”

Peter let go off the hug and looked into Mr. Stark’s eyes. The man brushed some hair out of Peter’s face just like May had done it so many times before.

“Huh, what do you say, Spider-Boy?” Mr. Stark asked softly, “Mountains or some tropical Island?”

“Maybe New York could survive without Spider-Man,” Peter admitted, “But the world… The world needs Iron Man. You can’t just leave, Tony. And I’m not letting you leave. I will go to the group home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for all the comments! They make my day :)


	37. Chapter 37

Only two days later CPS had called and announced that they were going to pick up Peter and bring him back to the group home.

“You didn’t even pack half of your things, Peter,” Mr. Stark criticised as he opened Peter’s cupboard and looked at the still full shelf in dismay. Peter had started packing half an hour ago and had told the man that he was almost done packing. The teenager was just trying to squeeze a few last items into his luggage.

“I’m only allowed to take two bags to the group home,” Peter explained to the man.

“Why? That’s a stupid rule,” Mr. Stark claimed, but Peter just shrugged his shoulders.

Peter sighed and looked at the man. “Imagine every kid taking all their stuff into the group home. How would that work?”

Mr. Stark grabbed a coat hanging in the cupboard and threw it on the teen’s bed.

“At least take your winter coat. It’s going to be cold soon,” the man told him.

“I packed the other coat. It’s warm enough,” Peter informed him.

“No, it’s not,” Mr. Stark argued back, “Pack this one.”

“It’s too big, Tony,” Peter said, “It would be taking up too much space.”

“But this is New York and winters are cold,” the man grunted angrily.

“I’m going to be fine. My other coat is warm enough,” Peter tried to calm the man, but without success.

“It’s not,” Mr. Stark said raising his voice, “But you know where that coat would be fine? On a tropical island. In fact, you wouldn’t need a coat at all. That’s still an option, you know?”

“Tony, it’s going to be fine! Stop beating yourself up about this,” Peter shouted back at the man.

“It’s not fine, Peter. And I want to fix this, but you aren’t letting me.”

“Running away is not exactly fixing things.”

Mr. Stark sighed and sat down on Peter’s bed next to his suitcase.

 “You know what, Tony? I will leave my other coat here and wear the thick one today, when they pick me up,” Peter compromised. Mr. Stark smiled a little.

“Thanks, kid.”

Peter continued to pack, while Mr. Stark watched him silently.

“You can come visit me any time, kid. I mean we will have to take some precautions, but this doesn’t mean that we won’t see each other.”

Peter smiled at the man. “I know, Tony. Thanks.”

Mr. Stark eyes met his and the man just looked at him for a few seconds with wide, sad eyes.

“It’s going to be fine, Tony,” Peter promised the man.

Mr. Stark pressed his lips together.

“How do you know that?” The man growled angrily, “The last time you’ve been in that group home, you overdosed on MDMA and fell off a roof. You almost died. I almost lost you.”

Peter hesitated for a moment, feeling a mix of regret and shame.

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled.

“If you’re sorry, then just leave with me. It’s going to be great. Have you ever tried surfing? I bet you would be awesome at it. We could buy an island with a house at the beach. And every morning we go surfing. Or play Lego, if you like that better. And pancakes every morning? How does that sound?”

Peter hesitated a second before he answered. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been thinking about Mr. Stark’s offer the past days. It wasn’t as if the idea wasn’t tempting.

“It sounds great, Tony. But you know, we can’t do that. But don’t worry. The group home… it’s not going to be same,” Peter tried to console the man.

“Yeah? And why is that?” Mr. Stark asked back in a rather snappish tone.

“Because…” Peter paused, “Because the last I was in the group home… I thought I was alone. I thought May was going to die, and my classmates hated me, and that you… you didn’t care. But now… I’m not alone anymore.”

Mr. Stark glanced at him for some time longer until he sighed, and his shoulders slumped.

“Just promise me, kiddo. If you have problem, call me. Or even if you don’t have a problem. Just for fun, you know. Call me and tell me about your day or something,” Mr. Stark said.

“I promise, I will call you.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Mr. Stark suddenly sad. He pulled something out of his pocket, “I got you a new phone.”

Peter almost wanted to protest and refuse yet another expensive present from the man. But then he looked at the phone. It didn’t look expensive. It was a Stark Phone, but an outdated one. Ned had the same one six years ago. Peter took it from the man.

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter said as he turned the piece of technology in his hands. Only then Peter noticed one extra button on the phone. A holographic display shot out of the phone’s camera lens.

“Hello Peter,” Karen’s voice asked, “How can I help you today?”

“Uh, hi Karen,” Peter mumbled, „I… How are you working on this phone…? I mean it’s an old phone, right?”

“This phone has SI most advanced technology. It has a better performance than any computer on the market. You have access too high-speed internet and several SI servers. I can give you access to any data bank. The phone possesses a miniaturized arc-reactor battery and never has to be charged.”

Confused Peter looked from the phone to Mr. Stark, who was grinning at him.

“How? Why?” Peter stuttered, “It’s too much!”

“It’s not Pete. This more for my own good than yours. I will sleep better at night knowing that you can reach me any time.”

Peter swallowed and turned the holographic display off again.

“A normal phone would do. You know like an _actual_ old StarkPhone,” the teen argued.

“Yeah? Well, this phone will never run out of battery and it works anywhere in the world. Even if you’re stuck like, I don’t know, in a forest in Siberia, you could call me. And it can even work as a computer. You can do your homework with it.”

The teenager sighed. “So, it’s a phone for stuck-in-Siberia emergencies and homework?”

“Exactly what teenage vigilantes need, don’t you think?”

Peter gave in. He knew there would be no arguing with the man. “Thank you, Tony.”

“You’re welcome. And since it looks like an old phone, it’s less likely that somebody is going to steal it from you.”

Peter nodded. He had already figured out that much by himself. Mr. Stark’s most advanced technology in an old phone, that most teenagers would probably sneer at.

“And I wanted to give you this,” Mr. Stark pulled out a second thing out of his pockets. He held up a credit card.

“Tony, no!” Peter objected, “You can’t give me a credit card.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want it!”

“Well, too bad. It already has your name on it. Take it,” the man demanded.

“Tony! What am I even going to do with a credit card?”

“I don’t know? Buy things? That’s what people generally do with credit cards.” Mr. Stark suggested.

“I don’t need anything. What should I even buy with it?”

Mr. Stark shrugged his shoulders. “How about you buy a present for May?”

“I…” Peter hesitated, “No. Not with your money.”

“Or maybe buy yourself some more food, while in the group home? I mean if you buy yourself some nice food with the card, you will cost the group home less.”

Peter frowned but took the credit card. “You’re being manipulative,” he complained.

“And you’re being stubborn and unreasonable. And you’re way too smart to be manipulated,” Mr. Stark told him with a crooked smile on his face. Peter gave him a shy smile back.

Then suddenly, the bell of the apartment rang. Both Mr. Stark and Peter stiffened.

“Boss,” Friday announced, “the CPS workers are here.”

There was a long pause. Neither Peter nor Mr. Stark moved.

“You’ve got everything, kid?” Mr. Stark finally. His voice was hoarse.

Peter just nodded. When Peter still didn’t move. Mr. Stark closed up his bag. “I’m going to be there for you kid, you know that, right?”

With wide eyes Peter stared at his mentor. Former guardian. Father-figure. Whatever.

Suddenly reality hit Peter hard. He was going away. He was going to lose his home again. Tonight, he would be alone in a bed in the group home with people who didn’t really know him, didn’t really care about him. Nobody would care if he cried or if had eaten enough. There wouldn’t be pancakes in the morning. No teasing nicknames.

Peter could feel his lip quiver. Mr. Stark’s shoulders slumped.

“Kid…”

“Why can’t I just stay with you? Why does everything have to be so difficult?” Peter wanted to know his voice close to crying.

Mr. Stark sighed and squeezed his shoulders.

“I don’t know, kiddo. I just… My life is a mess, it always has been. Just when I think I got my shit figured out something happens, and then I’m just left with a bigger mess than with what I have started with. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my mess out of your life.”

“Your life is a mess?” Peter replied in a tone that was more kidding than bitter (or at least he hoped it was), “Look who you’re talking to.”

Mr. Stark pressed his lip together. The grip on Peter’s shoulder was getting tighter.

“It’s going to get better. I promise.”

“I want to stay here.”

“I know, kid. And I want you to stay.”

Peter gulped and before Mr. Stark could see his tears he hugged the man and pressed his face against the man’s chest. Mr. Stark pulled his arms around the teen, one hand caressing the boy’s hair.

Mr. Stark hush him soothingly. “It’s going to be alright, kiddo.”

Peter tighten his grip. Tears were flowing down his cheeks, making Mr. Stark’s shirt wet. But Peter knew now that the man would care about that. Mr. Stark only cared about him. 

“I love you, Tony,” Peter whispered. The words tasted strange on his tongue and yet they seemed right.

Mr. Stark kissed his hair. “I love you, too, Peter.”

 

* * *

It was weird to come back to the group home. It didn’t feel quite real. It didn’t feel like he belonged there anymore.

His social worker Mr. Williams, who had first picked him from May’s hospital and now from Mr. Stark’s apartment, gently nudged his back, when Peter was just standing in the entrance hesitating to go in.

“Linda is waiting inside, Peter.” Mr. Williams kindly reminded him, “We want to settle you in before the others come back from school.”

Peter gulped and took a few careful steps into the home. It was still the same rose pink and minted green painted walls, the same dirt stains and the same mountain of children’s shoes next to an overfilled shelf.

Peter took of his shoes and hanged up his thick winter coat. He hadn’t been gone long enough to have forgotten the house rules. The floor felt sticky under his socks.

Mr. Williams gave him a commiserative smile.  “Come on, Peter. Let’s find Linda.”

Just in that moment the main caregiver in the house, Mrs. Linda Davis, came from the living room area to the hallway.

“Peter, there you are,” she said. Peter could see that she tried to sound cheerful, but her eyes told another story. The woman was tired, probably overworked, “We’ve missed you.”

Mrs. Davis squeezed Peter’s shoulder and then turned to Mr. Williams.

“Thanks, Dan. I’ve got it from here. Unless you want to stay for lunch.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve another appointment. Next time though?” He told her. “Do you have to set up the field bed again? Do you need help with that? I’ve got enough time for that much.”

“Thank you, but no. Peter is getting his own room,” she explained. Peter frowned a little bit, there was something strange in her voice.

“You’ve got a free room? Since when?” Mr. Williams questioned and raised an eyebrow. Peter could see that Mrs. Davis had the urge to tell the other CPS worker something, but that she restrained herself in front of Peter.

“I moved my office to the basement,” she explained, “I’m not spending much time there anyway, so it’s alright.”

She didn’t seem happy about that and immediately Peter felt guilty. Did Mr. Stark make her do that? Well, of course he did, Peter thought.

“I don’t need my own room,” Peter claimed, “I was alright on the field bed. You can have your office. Or I can sleep in the basement. It wouldn’t be a big deal.”

Mrs. Davis eyes softened, “I already moved most of my things. It’s alright better. Come on, let me show you.”

 

* * *

The rest of the day had passed quickly. Little Trevor had been overjoyed, when he saw Peter back. The little boy had jumped into his arms and told him everything Peter had missed in the past weeks. A lot of other children who had never talked to Peter before also suddenly seemed interested in Peter. Or interested in Mr. Stark actually. They demanded to know every little detail about the billionaire, his apartment and everything about the Avengers.

When Peter finally got to go his room, he was relieved to be on his own, even though he still felt bad that Mrs. Davis had to move her office. The room was cramped, especially since the social worker hadn’t managed to move all her things yet. There was still a big shelf in Peter’s room with all kind of documents. They had put a new bed in Peter’s room, a simple wooden frame with a thin mattress, but it was by far much better than the field bed.

Peter had just changed into his pyjamas, when somebody opened the door. Harvey was standing in his doorframe. He glared at Peter for a few seconds. The bully had ignored him for most part of the day. Peter had wished that it would have stayed that way.

“What do you want?” Peter asked.

Harvey’s eyes darted around the room.

“You know, I’ve been here for three years now. I haven’t slept in a single room for a single night.” The older teenager told Peter.

“I…I didn’t ask for this,” Peter defended himself.

Harvey scoffed. “Trust me it won’t last anyway. In a few weeks the world is going to forget about you again.”

Peter didn’t reply anything. He didn’t care if the world forgot him. He just needed his friends and family. He never asked for the media’s attention.

Harvey took a few more steps into the room.

“This is a place where children get forgotten. Parents screw up, loose their kids. And then they forget about them,” the teen shrugged his shoulders.

Peter clenched his teeth. “My aunt didn’t screw up. She’s sick.”

“She’s still alive?” the other teenager asked, “I would have thought she died, with all that talk of the media that Stark wanted to adopt you.”

“Of course, she’s alive,” Peter growled back at Harvey.

Again, Harvey shrugged his shoulder. “She’ll forget about you. I mean, she didn’t screw up, but she kind of seemed eager to get rid of you, didn’t she? And your billionaire friend? You can’t tell me that _Tony Stark_ has to listen to CPS rules?”

That wasn’t true. Neither May nor Mr. Stark wanted to get rid of him. Mr. Stark loved him. He said so.

“What do you want, Harvey?” Peter snapped.

Again, the teen shrugged his shoulders and smiled a mischievous grin.

“Just to tell you, what nobody has the guts to tell you. You had your few weeks of fame, but that’s now over. Tony Stark doesn’t care about you. You’ll screw up and then your special treatment from Linda will end, too. She was pretty pissed to move her office by the way.”

 

* * *

Going to school was for once a huge relief. The media had of course reported that Mr. Stark’s foster kid had gone back to the group home, but Peter’s class tried to give the teen some space. Only Ned kept complaining about how unfair it was. They were currently sitting in the cafeteria. They were alone at their table, MJ was still stuck in her English class.

“I mean, how can they keep judging about things in the past,” Ned argued, “Did you know that my uncle smoked weed in college? And he’s a super good dad now. Nobody is reporting on him being an unfit parent.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “I told you. It’s not about that. We just got too much media attention. Which is not good considering, you know, my after-school activities.”

“Yeah, but dude. Why couldn’t they just leave you alone? I mean, yeah, Mr. Stark is Iron Man and the richest person in the country, and he saved the city once and almost destroyed another country by accident… what I mean, can’t he have a private life, too?”

Peter actually agreed with Ned. Why couldn’t the man have a private life? Why couldn’t they just have left them alone?

“Uh, Peter,” Ned suddenly sad and tabbed him on the shoulder. Peter looked up and saw Bobby standing at their table. Ned knew that Peter was kind of friends with the drug dealer now, but he could feel his friend getting nervous in the older teen’s presence. Bobby had a reputation. He was somehow the most popular and most feared student in the school. The teen was cool and mysterious, something girls apparently liked. He was the one kid, who got invited to every good party, too, because he had drugs. But he was also known to be smart, what earned him some respect between the nerdier nerds of the school. He had won several chemistry competitions during his time at Midtown.

Of course, Peter saw the teen in another light. Bobby was a caring boy, in an awful situation. Everything he appeared to be, he wasn’t. The teen wasn’t brave, wasn’t violent. He didn’t care about being popular, he just wanted to survive.

“Hello Peter,” the older teen greeted them, “And, uh, hello Leeds.”

Ned next to him stiffened.

“Uh, hi, Bobby,” Peter greeted back. “Do you want to have lunch with us?”

He could tell that Ned didn’t want to have lunch with the other teen, but Bobby refused anyway.

“Nah, I’ll get some fries later. But, can I… like talk to you? In private?”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, Ned, I’ll be back in sec.”

 

* * *

Bobby’s black eye still hadn’t faded completely. The cut on his cheek was bright pink now and Peter was pretty certain that it was going to become a permanent scar. Bobby lead Peter to a toilet and quickly rushed a younger boy out of the bathroom.

“What did you want to talk about?” Peter wanted to know after Bobby had checked if all the toilet stalls were empty.

“I just… I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that stuff to you and… I shouldn’t have shoved you. I mean, you’re a good friend, Peter. I’m sorry,” Bobby confessed. His cheeks were flushed in a deep pink.

“It’s… it’s alright. I mean, you were right. I should have told you about Mr. Stark and I shouldn’t have stolen the pill from you.”

“How… how is the group home? Field bed again, huh?” Bobby wanted to know.

“Actually… I got my own room. It’s alright. It’s better than before.”

Bobby studied Peter for a while. Peter could see that the teen struggled with the next question.

“Tony Stark… was he alright to you? I mean, _why_ aren’t you living with him anymore? I mean, I could imagine that CPS is just glad, if there a billionaire willing to foster… Did he… you know… mistreat you?”

“What? No! No! Tony is great. He really tried hard. Everything the media was telling… it was bullshit. He is a good parent. I mean, foster parent.”

Bobby seemed to relax a little bit, though still a bit doubtful.

“What about you?” Peter asked, risking that Bobby would get angry again, “Are you going to tell me what happened to your face?”

Automatically Bobby’s to his cheek tracing the new scar. He didn’t answer immediately, but just stared at the floor.

“My mom’s boyfriend,” he finally answered. Peter’s eyes widened.

“That’s… that’s wrong. You should talk to somebody… Tell your mom, or a teacher…”

“My mom broke up with him this weekend,” Bobby explained.

“Oh, that’s… that’s great.” Peter replied, but some part of him didn’t believe Bobby. There was more to the story.

“I… Are you still speaking to Stark?” Bobby asked suddenly.

“What? Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Bobby opened his backpack and pulled out a thick notebook. Peter recognised it as the notebook the older teenager had used while he was working on his non-addictive drug.

“I… I kind of finished the drug,” Bobby told him and blushed. “I wrote everything down. I mean it still needs a lot of testing, but nothing that I can do with my resources. I could send it to a university or something, but I’m kind of scared that it will just end up in the hands of a big pharma company and that it will never get on the market or with like outrageous prices. And Stark… I read a lot about him. He doesn’t really seem to care about money? I mean he’s big on charity. Maybe… he can like file a patent? And test it and sell it at low cost? Do you think… That he would do that?”

Peter took Bobby’s notebook and quickly skimmed through it.

“When did you finish this? We weren’t even halfway done, the last time we worked on it,” Peter asked. He read through the last pages. Bobby handwriting had never been tidy, but the last pages seemed very rushed.

“I… wanted to be done with it, since I need to start studying for my finals,” Bobby informed him.

“It’s not even Christmas,” Peter argued.

“Uh, yeah. If I want to go to college, I need a scholarship. I can’t afford distractions.”

“I’ll take it to Tony. I’m sure he’ll be interested,” Peter assured him

Bobby breathed out in relief. “It would be great… you know, if he could sell it at a low cost? Something everybody can afford. I mean, I don’t need credit for it. Mr. Stark can have the credit or somebody working for him or you of course. I don’t really care. But just, get it out there?”

“You’ll get credit. Tony would never take credit for someone else’s work.”

Bobby smiled at softly and then pulled the younger teen into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Pete.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the kudos, bookmarks and especially thank you for any comments. This chapter was kind of difficult, because it's kind of a a transition between two story-arcs? 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it anyway! I hope I'll update soon.
> 
> Oh, and there's also an estimation on how many chapter I will have in total. Although it might be even longer than that, there's a lot going to happen...


	38. Chapter 38

_Tony seriously regretted to have let Fury organize their flight from Europe back to the US. His back ached, his legs had fallen asleep at least three times and the plane hadn’t even served food, let alone some booze to calm his nerves. But the most unnerving thing had been, that the plane didn’t have any internet connection. The pilot had even insisted that Tony had to turn off all his electronic devices. What kind of plane was this anyway?_

_Tony definitely should have taken one of his own planes. He didn’t have a plane with all the medical equipment that Rhodey needed, but Tony doubted that it would take Pepper more than two hours to organize a transport for an unconscious Rhodey._

_The discomfort of the flight had been one problem, but having his electronical devices turned off was almost unbearable for Tony. Suddenly, he had been alone with his thoughts. There was nothing to distract him, nothing to keep his mind from wandering to dark places as he watched his best friend unconscious, strapped onto a narrow hospital bed and attached to various machines._

_When the plane finally landed, Tony was relieved to get out of the vehicle. The medical team was already awaiting them at the airport. They quickly rolled Rhodey into an ambulance._

_Tony breathed in the cold, humid air of the rainy night. He pulled out his phone and turned it on. His fingers were itching for safety or maybe even sanity which technology offered him._

_It took the phone only a second to turn on, and maybe a few more seconds to connect to a mobile network. Tony wasn’t surprised when missed calls appeared on his display. He had been on the plane for several hours and there were always some people, who wanted something from him._

_But he held his breath when he saw, who called him._

_Peter. 16 missed called. Three messages._

_“Mr. Stark, can you please call me back?” The first message said._

_“I know you’re angry, but it’s really important. Please.” The teen had written only a minute later._

_“It’s Peter Parker by the way. Please call.” That was his last message._

_Tony’s hands started shaking. His eyes darted around, looking at the SHIELD agents and his own employees, hoping that somebody would see his panic and calm him down. That somebody would come and tell him that in whatever trouble Peter had been it had already been resolved._

_“FRIDAY, call Peter.” Tony said. Immediately his phone dialled the kid’s number. It went straight to voice mail._

_“Again, FRIDAY,” Tony demanded._

_Tony’s heart was racing in his chest. Peter was a shy kid. Even though he had had no qualms about annoying Happy with daily calls shortly after the fight with Cap, Peter had almost never called Tony. As if the kid was scared of him._

_His hands were shaking so much, that the phone slipped out of his hands and crashed to the ground. Quickly, the billionaire clumsily picked it up. If Peter had called him_ 16 _times that had to mean that something was wrong. Horrible images flashed through the Avengers mind. Peter shot, stabbed, wounded. Broken limbs. Somebody hurting his kid._

_“You’re having a panic attack, Boss. Do you want me to call Ms. Potts?” The artificial voice came out of the phone._

_“I fucking know that I’m having a panic attack. Don’t call Pepper. Call a suit and find the kid,” Tony hissed._

_“Peter’s phone seems to be off, but I found his last location. A suit will be here in two minutes.”_

_It took 90 seconds for a suit to arrive. The SHIELD agents and Tony’s employees seemed slightly confused, when the billionaire suddenly stepped into his suit. But nobody bothered to question it. Quickly Tony flew to the Peter’s last location. It was a hospital. FRIDAY pointed him to an alley next to it. And that’s where he saw him._

_A limb figure was lying on the cold, wet asphalt._

_Peter._

_The dark curls had flattened from the rain. His face was white, a harsh contrast to everything else in the dark alley. The kid’s foot was twisted unhealthily, making Tony’s stomach turn._

_“Peter,” Tony shouted. He took of his Iron Man mask and shouted again. “Peter!” Tony repeated._

_Peter was still. So awfully still. Quickly Tony stepped out of the suit and got on his knees next to the kid._

_“Don’t do this to me. Please kid, wake up.” Tony lifted the kid’s head, gently caressing his cheek. There was blood on the kid’s face._

_“Please, please, kiddo. I’m not angry at you. Please,” Tony begged, trying to find a pulse, but his hands were shaking too much._

_“FRIDAY,” Tony shouted into the dark, “Heartbeat. Does he have a heartbeat?”_

_“I can’t detect anything, Sir.”_

* * *

“Tony!”

“ _Please, kid. Don’t do this to me. Please.” He tried shaking the kid._

“Tony wake up.”

_“Please, please. Please.”_

“Tony,” a voice shouted. Somebody was shaking him.

_Peter was dead. His kid was dead. His kid died in a dark alley completely alone and it was all Tony’s fault._

“Tony,” the voice demanded again. Then he felt a hand slap his face. Tony opened his eyes.

He wasn’t outside. It wasn’t raining or cold. He wasn’t in a dark alley.

Pepper’s worried face looked down at him. He was entangled in his bed sheets. His T-shirt was drained in sweat.

“Peter?” Tony asked, “Where’s Peter?”

A soft hand was on his cheek, that still burned from being slapped. “Save asleep in the group home. You talked to him just a few hours ago, remember?” Pepper explained to him in a soothing voice.

“He’s alright?” Tony wanted to know. The images in his head still felt so real.

“Yes, Tony. He’s alright. You just had a nightmare, honey,” Pepper told him calmingly. She kissed his forehead and brushed through his hair.

“I dreamed that he died. That he fell of that hospital roof and died,” Tony said in a raspy voice, “I’ve lost him”.

“It’s okay. He’s fine. FRIDAY, pull up the data from Peter’s phone?” Pepper asked. Suddenly a bright holographic display appeared above their bed. It showed all the data the kid’s phone collected. The kid was indeed in the group home and (unknown to Peter) it also showed kept track of the kid’s vital signs. Pepper had at first disapproved and told Tony that he was overcontrolling, but she had given in, seeing that the kid had gotten himself in life threatening danger several times already, even outside of his suit.

But Peter was sleeping now. Breathing and heart beat normal.

Tony took a deep breath.

 

* * *

Tony was sitting in his lab, working on his next suit. A glass of whiskey was on his table.

“Tony, you said, you were only getting some water,” Pepper complained as she walked through the glass doors. She was wearing her night gown

“I changed my mind,” he shortly answered.

“It’s four in the morning. I know you had a nightmare, but you need to sleep,” she argued. She stepped closer to him, wrapping her dressing gown tightly around her. The lab was chilly.

“What’s this?” She took the whiskey glass into her hand. Tony had intentionally not filled it in a whiskey glass, hoping to avoid question, but of course he couldn’t fool his fiancée. She smelled it and wrinkled her nose.

“Tony, you’re drinking.” She told criticized him.

“Just one glass. To calm my nerves,” Tony briefly answered and focused back on the gauntlet in front of him. But he could feel Pepper’s disapproving glare on him.

“This has to stop, Tony,” she told him. “It’s been two weeks since Peter moved out and I don’t think you have slept a single full night.”

Tony clenched his teeth. “I just… I want him back.”

Pepper sighed loudly. She went with her hand through Tony’s hair.  “I understand. I really do. But this has to stop. Peter is safe and healthy. You phone with him every evening.”

“I just… those nightmares…”

Pepper continued to stroke his head.

“He’s safe,” Pepper insisted, but Tony just shook his head.

“Is he? Really? Even if the kid actively tries to stay out of trouble, trouble just seems to find him.”

Again, Pepper sighed, “I know, Tony. But he’s fifteen. You can’t be there every second of his life. You have to trust him.”

“I know, I know, Pepper.” Tony agreed. “I just want him back.”

“Come on. Let’s go back to bed. Tomorrow Happy will be picking up Peter and you’ll have the whole day with him. You want to be able to enjoy tomorrow..”

She took his hand and Tony let her lead him out of the lab.

“You know,” she then whispered to him, “Maybe we should think about a way to have Peter here without Ross or anybody getting noisy about it?”

 

* * *

It had been two weeks since Peter had moved out. Everything seemed fine. Peter was usually happy on the phone, rambling about school and his friends. The group home seemed fine, too. Tony had made sure that Peter got his own room and had given the group home a generous anonymous donation. Peter had told him that they were planning on renovating the whole facility soon.

But nonetheless, Tony stayed anxious. Several times a day, he just walked into Peter’s old room, wishing that the kid would just be there.

It had been difficult for Tony. He hadn’t even been able to meet with Peter those first two weeks. Not while the media was still reporting how Tony Stark’s foster kid got removed to a group home by CPS. There had been many demands for interviews, but Tony had declined all of them. His security made sure, that nobody bothered Peter either.

Only now, after two weeks, finally the media has mostly stopped asking about Peter.

Peter’s school day would end early and Tony was incredibly excited to see Peter. He had about four hours with the kid. It wasn’t nearly close to enough time, but Tony took what he could get.

When FRIDAY finally told him that Peter was in the elevator, Tony excitedly waited in front of it. When the door opened, for the first time in two weeks Tony felt like he could breath.

The kid was standing there, bright eyed, cheeks flushed in pink from the cold, hair messy and curled as always.

“Hey Tony,” Peter came out of the elevator and grinned happily.

Before answering anything, Tony pulled the teen into a tight hug.

 

* * *

Slowly they were developing something like a routine. Twice a week, Tony got to see Peter. Every Wednesday and Friday the kid would come. They would usually work in the lab or just watch some TV and eat some food that Tony had cooked. School was going good for Peter, all his exams were excellent, even though the kid had missed so much this year. Tony sometimes helped Peter with his homework, but Tony strongly suspected that the kid didn’t actually need any help, but just liked to torture Tony with Spanish and essays about Shakespeare.

It was almost one month after the kid had been living in the group home again, when Tony noticed something was off for the first time. It was a Wednesday afternoon and the kid was already silently doing his homework for two hours already. Tony was sitting opposite of him, drinking his coffee and doing his own work, but glancing at the kid every few minutes, hoping that the kid would finally be done with schoolwork.

“Hey kid, what’s up?” Tony asked, when he grew too impatient.

“What?” Peter looked up from his homework. He was doing maths. Tony frowned. Peter was usually done with his math homework in less than half an hour.

“Something is going on, I can tell.”

Peter’s brows slightly furrowed. “It’s nothing, Mr. Stark.”

“Mr. Stark again, huh?” The kid had the tendency to call him _Mr. Stark,_ when he was nervous. Stress made the kid fall back into old habits. The kid blushed as he realized that Tony had just caught him in a lie.

“I… sorry, Tony,” Peter stuttered. “It’s just… Bobby hasn’t been to school this week. I’m worried.”

Tony breathed out in relief. From all the things that could be wrong, Bobby boy’s problems weren’t on the top of his mind.

“He’s probably sick?” Tony offered as an explanation, “It’s winter and the flu is going around. That’s what Pepper said anyway.”

“I… yeah. You’re probably right.” Peter muttered and looked back at his homework. “Have you, uh, taken a look on the notes I gave you on his drug?”

Tony nodded. It wasn’t exactly Tony’s field of expertise, but he could tell that the kid had done some great work. Bobby had a great future ahead of him, if the teen stayed in line.

“I have forwarded it to Cho. She’ll have a look on it. Now, when are you going to be done? I made some progress with my nano tech suit and I wanted to show you.”

Peter gave him a shy smile. “I can do the rest tonight, let’s go to the lab.”

 

* * *

Tony was sitting in his lab, when his phone rang. It was Peter. The kid was supposed to be in school.

Quickly Tony picked up the phone.

“Peter?” Tony said, “Everything alright?”

There were some noises in the background. Kids talking and a bell. Peter was still in school.

“Oh, hi, Tony. Yeah, everything is good. It’s lunch break. Uh.” The kid paused making Tony feel very nervous, “I have to cancel today.”

“What? Why?” Tony glanced at the watch. Happy was supposed to pick Peter up in three hours for their Friday evening together.

“You know Trevor?” Peter explained quickly. By now Tony knew the name of most of the kid’s in Peter’s group home. Trevor was apparently a particularly sweet boy, who was also very clingy.

“It’s his birthday today,” Peter quickly informed the man, “I just found out this morning. And, uh, I kind of promised him to go to the National Museum of Mathematics. He’s super excited, I can’t let him down.”

“National Museum of Mathematics?” Tony asked raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah, I tutor Trevor in maths and he’s starting to be really good. He says it’s his favourite subject now.”

Tony chuckled. He was disappointed, he had really been looking forward to spending the day with Peter. But on the other hand, the kid was being adorable. He was proud of the kid for being a good tutor and great friend to some kid, who probably had nothing much else.

“Do you think Trevor would mind, if I join you guys?” Tony suggested.

There was a pause. Tony felt Peter holding his breath.

“We can’t be seen in public together, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered into the phone as if he suddenly feared somebody overhearing their conversation.

Tony shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ll disguise myself.”

“Tony, it’s _risky_.”

And Tony didn’t care. He just wanted to be with the kid. Wednesdays and Fridays were the only thing keeping the man sane right now.

“What? If somebody sees us, I’m taking my intern to a museum. It’s educational.”

“But I’m not just your intern anymore,” Peter argued, “Tony, we were all over the news last month. We can’t just be seen in public.”

“Nobody will see us. Happy is going to drive you guys to the museum, let’s meet there.”

 

* * *

Trevor really was a cute kid. It had taken him fifteen minutes to calm down, when he realized that he was going to spend his birthday with Iron Man. Tony hadn’t allowed him to take pictures of him, but he had promised the kid to give him an autograph later.

Trevor was a little bit to hyper-active and when Tony explained him something in the museum, Peter usually had to explain it again. Obviously, Trevor wasn’t awfully bright, but his childish excitement every time he did understand something, was heart-warming.

Peter seemed happy during their museum as well. A few times their eyes met, and Peter had grinned at him.

Luckily the museum didn’t seem to have an unbusy day. Tony was wearing a hat and some sunglasses. So far nobody had seemed interested in the man at all. He seemed just like any other parent visiting a museum on a Friday afternoon.

It was almost seven, the museum was going to close soon. Trevor had found just another interactive game. Excitedly he dragged Peter to it. Tony just found a bench, sat down, glad to have a little bit of a break. He had been explaining math to Trevor for two hours now. Or at least he had tried to explain things. Peter was just a little bit better in explaining things. But Pepper would be proud of Tony.

Tony leaned back on the seat an watched the kids. A third child, about Trevor’s age, joined them. Peter was talking, obviously explaining everything to the younger kids.

“It’s so nice to see kids get excited about something that isn’t on their phone,” suddenly somebody said. Tony turned and saw an older lady approaching him. She sat down next to him and adjusted her thick glasses.

“Sure,” Tony agreed and stiffened. He pressed his own tinted glasses against the bridge of his nose.

The old lady smiled and nodded. She hasn’t recognized him yet. Tony considered just leaving. But then he thought to just keep calm. It was an old lady, not a noisy reporter.

“The blond one is my grandson. Michael,” she started to tell him, “He’s nine. Every Friday I take him to a different museum. He’s such a bright boy. The best one in his class.”

“That’s great. Congrats,” Tony answered trying to keep the conversation short.

“And those two? Are they yours?” The old lady then wanted to know.

Tony sat up straighter.

“What?”

“Are they your sons?” She asked calmly again, apparently not noticing the anxiousness rising in Tony’s chest.

“The older one is,” Tony answered without thinking. Because, somewhere in his mind, that was the correct answer. And it was nice to say it out loud to a stranger, who wouldn’t know better, who couldn’t correct him, who would just believe it.

But then to Tony’s horror, Peter’s head snapped towards their direction. Wide eyes stared at Tony. Tony took a deep breath. Damn that super-hearing. For an awful second Tony expected Peter to get angry, to run off or to tell the old lady that Tony wasn’t his father. Instead a big, happy smile formed on Peter’s lips.

“I could tell that he’s your son,” the old lady nodded knowingly, “He looks just like you. He has your hair and your jaw line. He’s going to be a very handsome man, just like his father.”

Peter’s gaze turned back to the math game with the two younger boys. But Tony had to smile as he saw the teen’s face getting red.

Then the old lady continued talking about her own grandchild and some math competition, in which he had participated. Tony wasn’t listening anymore.

Instead he was watching Peter. They did look a lot alike. Well, alike enough.

 

* * *

Tony was sitting in his lab. He had been staring at the screen in front of him for quite a while now.

Becoming a father had for years scared the crap out of him. He had, even in his most crazy years, been very careful. He had always used a condom, a condom that he had bought himself. It wasn’t too far fetched to assume that one of one-nightstand could have actually tried to become pregnant from him and this manipulated any contraceptives.

Over the years there had been a few claims of pregnant women, telling him that he was the father, but luckily none of those claims had been true. There had been a whole legal team and a handful of detectives employed, just to handle false pregnancy claims.

“FRIDAY, have I ever been with Mary Fitzpatrick Parker on the same science conference?” Tony asked.

The AI turned on a second screen. A few pictures appeared. All of them were apparently taken during conferences where both he and Mary had been present.

“There four science conferences, in which both you and Mary Parker had been present.”

Tony glanced at a group picture of conference. He can’t remember it ever been taken. He had probably been drunk. On the picture were maybe hundred dressed up people smiling into the camera. Tony of course was in the middle of the picture, wearing a perfectly fitting tuxedo and sunglasses. Shamelessly he was holding a bottle of vodka in his hand.  

“When was that?” Tony questioned. He looked at the woman, Mary Parker, standing three rows behind Tony. The AI had made a red circle around her. Tony doubted he would have recognized her otherwise.

“December 2000.”

Tony gulped. Almost too perfect.

Tony studied Mary’s face for a while longer. She looked so happy in the picture. Her husband had his arm around her. For a brief second Tony wondered, if Mary had already been pregnant in this picture. He wondered, if there had been a baby Peter Parker growing in that woman’s womb, while he had only been thinking about what he was going to drink and who he was going to sleep with.

Tony turned back to his other screen. He had always been so afraid of becoming a father. He had been afraid for so many different reasons. He had never wanted to grow up, he had never thought that he deserved to be someone’s father and he had never believed that could be a good father.

All of those things were still somehow true, but all of those things also didn’t matter anymore. All he could think of was, how much he loved Peter.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how Peter had smiled, when he had told that old lady, that Peter was his son.

Tony had celebrated any DNA test which had come back negative. He and his lawyer had probably finished whole crates of bottles of champagne over all those years.

As he was looking at the two DNA sequences on the screens though, he wished nothing more than that this paternity test was positive. Of course, it wasn’t. Peter wasn’t his biological son. But then again, that hadn't been why he had pulled out the DNAs.

He had known that Peter wasn’t his biological son. But that wasn't going to stop him from telling the world a little lie.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is slightly all over the place. It's still kind of an in-between chapter, before the last plot of the story develops.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it though. :)
> 
> I love your comments, kudos and bookmarks. Thank you so much! I can't believe how many people are reading this story.


End file.
